


One Beacon Hills

by 182daysof



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Jordan Parrish Friendship, Derek Hale & Kira Yukimura Friendship, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, EMT Derek, EMT Derek Hale, EMT Kira Yukimura, F/M, Getting Back Together, Hurt Derek, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Mention of Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Past Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Post-Break Up, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Teen Wolf AU, Veterinarian Scott, slow burn sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/182daysof/pseuds/182daysof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ONE TREE HILL/TEEN WOLF AU </p><p>Three years four months and two days we return to Beacon Hills and somethings have changed, some of them have reached the goals they set as teens: Stiles is a Deputy, Lydia is a respected scientist and Scott became the vet he was destined to be. Some didn't: Derek lost his inheritance and started work as an EMT. Following on from Lydia's influence Malia has become a fashion designer, and Peter Hale is locked in Eichen House.   But, after Lydia encourages Derek back home to Beacon Hills old hurts and feelings will be cracked free between Stiles and Derek especially when a body is found in the woods on Hale property.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Years, Four Months and 2 Days

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Teen Wolf/One Tree Hill Season Five AU ... but of course being Teen Wolf supernatural shenanigans happened.

**PROLOGUE **

_Derek’s chest heaved as Stiles shoved him backwards hard with the palm of his hand. “Stiles.”_

_“Let me tell you something, Derek,” Stiles breathed out, anger and hurt bleeding through his tone._

_Derek could hear his heart pounding like he was running a marathon. Stiles shoved him back again, and Derek stumbled catching his footing. “Stiles.” Derek tried again._

_Stiles shook his head refusing to listen. Refusing to heed him. “You know how you get 'always', Derek? When a guy asks you to marry him, you don’t say NO!”_

 

**PART ONE: Three Years, Four Months and 2 Days.**

**Chicago**

It’s been three years, four months and two days since Derek Hale had been in Beacon Hills. Three years, eight months since the fire that had destroyed the loft building he had owned. Another building fire involving the Hale family had sparked an insurance investigation that had devolved into trying to figure out how and why Peter Hale been declared dead only to be resurrected and committed to Eichen House. The sideways looks from the community in Beacon Hills had been nothing Derek wasn’t used too, but it had chafed in a way that was new. The insurance claims from the residents had frozen all the Hale financial accounts and left him virtually penniless.

It had been Stiles and his father who had encouraged Derek to talk to Melissa initially just to see if there had been admin work available. There hadn’t been any open to a novice, but there had been an EMT position and he’s training in New York when he and Laura were on the run had helped him get an interview. The Sherriff had put in a word for him as a referee and suddenly he was wearing a brand new uniform as a County EMT.

Working in Beacon Hills with all the supernatural add-ins hadn’t prepared him for working winters in Chicago, which was mostly freezing, and so many weird shenanigans. There were supernatural beings here, but it was an unwritten rule that if you came across something you didn’t say anything unless it was crossing the line.

Coming off a forty-eight-hour shift the last thing he had expected was to find Lydia Martin getting out of a taxi heading towards him. She was dressed in fashionable, but serviceable winter clothes, her teeth still chattered slightly as the bitterly cold weather snaked around them. “Why are you still here?” She eyed him with a disappointed look red hair hidden by a soft cream beanie.

“I just finished work.” Derek looked around and glanced at the fire station and saw his colleagues watching him with interest a couple gave him a thumbs up. Derek rolled his eyes. There were going to be a few questions later from them all, he assumed about who the lovely red haired was to him. He had no doubt after their hug his colleagues were going to believe Lydia was his girlfriend.

“It’s the 30th.” Lydia still wrapped underneath his arm, pulled him towards his car. “That guzzler is yours, right?”

Derek nodded. “Why are you here? And it’s not the 30th.”

“I just finished a three-hour guest lecture on the thermodynamics and genetics. It’s definitely the 30th.”

Derek unlocked the car and helped Lydia inside. He hurried around the front of the car feet skidding on the icy pavement. His gloved hand grabbed the hood for balance eyes darting up to where Lydia sat rubbing her hands in the front seat.

Lydia waited until he was in the car and then looked at him. “If it’s too much trouble I can go back to the hotel.”

“No. It’s fine.” Derek twisted the keys in the ignition. “I’m sorry. Mills had a family thing and I had to cover. We can still have dinner.” The engine flared with a low rumble and then promptly died. “Shit, come on baby.”

Lydia eyed the engine distrustfully. “Do I need to call that taxi back? He’s still here.”

Glaring at her, Derek twisted the car again. “No. It’s fine.” He jumped up and down on his seat rocking the car slightly.

“What … What are you doing?” Startled Lydia braced herself against the dashboard. “Derek!”

“Starting the car.” He rocked up and down again. The car vibrated with the movement creaking in the cold air.

“This is ridiculous. Just cough up the cash and get a new car.”

“Yeah, on what salary can I afford that?” Derek twisted the ignition again and the car started up with a low hum and he grinned patting the dash in thanks.

“If you need—“

Derek sighed. “It’s fine. It just the winter here.”

“You know that’s why Malia moved back to Beacon she wanted to get away from the winters.” Lydia tapped his leg apologetically. “She’s sorry by the way – she can’t make dinner.”

“Oh. I thought she was…”

Lydia cut him off, “She’s remodeling her store so she can't come. She said she told you.’

Derek rolled his eyes, of course, she had. His personal phone had died halfway into the shift and he hadn’t checked his messages since so maybe she had and more than likely if she were busy with her clothing stuff, she would’ve forgotten.

“Just tell me.” Lydia grabbed his hand in a firm grip before he could put it back on the wheel. “Are you happy?”

Derek sighed pulling his hand free. “I love my job.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer I have right now.”

Lydia tapped her nails thoughtfully against the dashboard. Derek turned his attention back to the road and pulled out. “But, if there were something back in Beacon you would?”

Derek watched the snow drift as he drove through the dark Chicago streets and conceded. “I’d consider it,” at her delighted hopeful look he added “Maybe.”

******

**Beacon Hills: M-Aths Fashion Store**

M-Aths a pun on Malia’s hatred of mathematics had become one of the hottest brands in athletics gear. Trendy and stylish it had taken off like a cat on a hot tin roof. Malia was proud of how far she had come. She wasn’t the best artist or businesswomen, but this stuff. Athletic gear. She knew that. She was good with that kind of fashion and she had been informed that she was terrifying in presentations. It was part of the reason she had got the startup grant from the bank in the first place. She had persuaded them to come through with a small loan and the rest was history.

She was not pleased with her new counter and shop frontage. Re-modelling in the quieter winter months had actually seemed like a good idea. She had been wrong. Oh, so wrong.

“That’s not what I paid you for.” Malia curled some hair behind her ear and stared at the now monstrosity of a shop counter. It was covered in glitter and a neon off green stripes. She hated glitter and secretly didn’t mind the stripes. She reeled on the Shop Assistant in annoyance. “What did you say to him?”

The Assistant’s doe-eyed stare was clueless as she gnawed on a nail. “Just that you said something about glitter.”

“I said. NO GLITTER.” Malia swiped at the counter like it would bite. Her hand came back covered. She shuddered. She hated glitter. She had been showered in it at senior prom when they’d let all the balloons drop from the ceiling. She had not been able to get it out of her hair for days. Days. She hated glitter.

Taken aback the Assistant shuffled back a step or two. “Oh, um, yeah. It’s still wet.”

Malia stared at her gold covered glitter hand as her phone rang. Pulling it out of her back pocket. She swiped the screen. It read Derek calling. “Cousin or whatever?”

“Yeah. Hi.” Derek’s said sounding uncomfortable. “Did you forget to remind me that Lydia was coming to visit?”

Malia cringed swiping her hand through her hair. “OH MY GOD.”

The Assistant gasped in horror.

Malia frowned at her. “What?”

“Aha. Malia, you know you’re on the phone right?” Derek said sounding quietly amused despite his predicament.

“I wasn’t.” Malia covered the phone as the assistant pointed with a black-nailed finger to Malia’s hair. “What?! Haven’t you done enough?”

“Um. Your hand?”

With a sudden sinking feeling, Malia stared at her hand and then pulled at the end of her hair. “Oh CRAP.”

“Should I call back?” Derek asked, “Is everything all right?”

“No. Yes.” Malia took a deep breath staring in horror at her now glitter covered hair in the mirror that hung behind the counter. “I mean, yes and no?”

There was a deep sigh on the line and then – “Fine. Call me back?”

“Of course,” Malia said. The call ended with a quiet click. “I am so fucked.“

“I’ll say.” The Assistant said, “You’re leaning against the counter.”

“Did I ask you to say anything?” Malia sniped. “Please leave.”

She pulled away from the counter and stared at her clothing. They were ruined. Covered in paint. She frowned in sudden inspiration. Quickly moving over to the mirror she glanced at the black jeggings she was wearing. The glitter swipes had created an unusual pattern. Malia smirked. “Huh.”

The Assistant appeared again. “You really should wash your hair, don’t you have to visit that guy with the awful hair?”

******

**Beacon Hills**

**Kira and Scott – Apartment 4A.**

Kira shifted quietly on the bed staring up at the cracked ceiling. Scott hadn’t come to bed yet. Bone tired from her shift as an EMT with the Beacon Hills Fire Department she shifted restlessly kicking at the sheets. Even after a dramatic thirteen-hour shift she couldn’t sleep at home unless he was next to her. It was stupid she knew. But, after the accident she had worried that she wouldn’t have that again.

She wrapped an old worn red blanket around her shoulders and shuffled out of the room. She cranked the heating up. Scott had left a window open somewhere.

She found him on the fire escape staring at the moon. Scott didn’t acknowledge her presence. She reached for his hand and Scott flinched away. “Come on, it's passed midnight.”

Scott sighed. “You go back to bed.”

Kira held firm. “Not without you.”

Dragging his eyes away from the blackness, Scott sighed again pulling his hand free. “I'm all right, babe. Go back to bed.”

“Not without you.” Kira noted the way Scott’s right hand that rested in his lap trembled intermittently and she frowned. It had only been a few days ‘and it would heal’ Deaton had promised them and that had reiterated to them all that ‘these kinds of wounds take longer’.

“Scott.”

“I said go back to bed!!” Scott’s voice cracked like a bullet.

Surprised by the violence of it Kira reeled backwards arms flailing about a little. She grabbed the windowsill for balance and missed, tumbling back. She rolled with it and landed on her feet.

“Ohhhh, fuck, Kira?!” Scott followed her inside scrambling to try and help her up and stumbling himself as his injured arm impeded his movements.

Kira stood up quickly, shaking off Scott’s help. Bruised and a little shaken. Scott had never raised his voice like that before. Not ever. She swallowed down the tears she refused to let him see her cry. “Don’t. I’m okay.”

She stepped around Scott who was watching her with an awful pained look in his eyes while clutching at his shoulder. Kira closed the window firmly. “I’m going to bed. You can stay here.” Bending down she swiped up her blanket and moved swiftly back towards the main bedroom. She closed the door with a soft thud.

Crawling back into bed and under the bedcovers she burrowed herself in and reached out for her phone. She fired off a text to Stiles requesting a coffee meeting at the Brownstone across from the Beacon Hills PD after he got off shift. Tomorrow she would talk to Stiles and Deaton this couldn’t go on. Scott wasn’t himself. If anyone could get through to him, it was Stiles.

*******

**Beacon Hills.**

**BHPD - Patrol Car 3.**

The phone buzzed from where it was placed on the console. It buzzed again. Deputy Stiles Stilinski reached for it absently watching where his partner Deputy Parrish was collecting their order of curly fries. He still maintained in the face of his father’s objections that it was a legitimate food group. He swiped the screen and frowned troubled by both text messages in different ways.

Lydia – _Can you ask Melissa if there is an EMT job available?_

Kira – _We need to talk about Scott._

He responded to Kira first it was less of a minefield and confirmed a catch up when he clocked off.

He sat on the response to Lydia. Lydia was in Chicago and it wasn’t a stretch to recognize that she was asking him because of Derek. He sighed. He really didn’t know what to say, but then his phone went off again before he could figure it out.

Lydia – _Never mind I asked Melissa and she said there is. I’m telling him tonight._

At that message Stiles frowned.

Stiles – _Why the heck did you ask me then?_

Lydia – _Because you needed to know._

He started to type a respond and his phone rang and Stiles answered knowing who it was immediately, “Lydia.”

Her tone was unrepentant. “He needs to come home, Stiles. You didn’t… Look he needs this and whatever was between—“

“I’m not.” Stiles cut her off. “It’s fine. It’s been three years. I’ve moved on. You know that.”

“Stiles –“ Lydia sighed, her tone carrying the weight of her doubt in that statement.

“I have a girlfriend.” Stiles protested loudly as Parrish hopped into the car beside him and handed him a stack of fries. “You don’t—“

“Okay then,” Lydia murmured. “Okay. I just thought you’d like a heads-up rather than…”

 Stiles watched the grease leach out of the container that held his fries and took a deep steadying breath. It had been three years. He was over Derek. He was. He was pretty sure he was and besides there was no way after what had happened that he was going to go backwards. He had moved on. He had a girlfriend. Heather who was the antithesis of everything that Derek Hale had been and was to him.

“Stiles?” Lydia and Parrish said weirdly in sync despite the fact she was on the phone and Parrish was in the car and had no idea of the others virtual presence.

“It’s fine. Invite him home or whatever. This place is his home too.”

There was a pause and then Lydia said carefully. “You know I’m not asking permission, right?”

“Oh,” Stiles said, watching as Parrish shoveled food into his mouth while starting the engine. “Yeah. Of course. I knew that.”

 “If this is going to be awkward.”

“It’s going to be awkward,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. “That’s why you’re calling me to ease the awkwardness.”

Lydia’s harrumph over the phone was a thing of beauty then she cursed quietly. “Gotta go. He’s coming back.”

“Oh, my, God,” Stiles exclaimed, “are you calling me while you’re with him?”

“Why do you care?” Lydia hissed whisper soft, “It’s not like you’re dating, right? You’ve just said you’d moved on.”

She ended the call before Stiles could even snap a short response. He cursed and Parrish looked over from where he was edging the patrol car down the main street of Beacon Hills. “Something wrong?”

Shaking his head, Stiles shrugged ripping open his packet of fries. “Depends.”

“On?” Parrish asked curiously.

Not waiting to get into his complicated feelings for Derek, ex-boyfriend, ex-friend, ex-something, Stiles shrugged. “On many things.”

Parrish took then and then said, “Did you hear? Peter Hale is due for release from Eichen.”

“Wow,” Stiles said. “That’s a—“Surprise was an understatement. The real question was what was going to happen if Derek returned and his crazy psycho uncle was out on parole. Peter had done enough damage to his nephew already and Stiles whatever his feelings for Derek did not want to see a repeat of that, but Derek valued family and second chances or three. Stiles just knew that Derek was going to give Peter another chance at family because he didn’t have much of that these days.

*****

**Beacon Hills – Eichen House.**

Eichen House hadn’t really changed. Malia could trace the cracks that had become so familiar to her when she had been in here. Each time she came on family visiting day it struck how odd the cycle of life was and how strange it was to be back within these walls if only as a visitor. She smoothed her hands down on black jeans and then straightened the edge of her shirt. She still had some glitter in her hair in a delicate gold stripe. It wasn’t going to come out unless she cut it. Her hair was already short enough and she wasn’t cutting it all off.

“Ms Tate?” A voice called. She looked up and found an Orderly watching her from the doorway and beside him... Peter.

Peter Hale the man who claimed to be her father. She didn’t care for him. She didn’t hate him either. But, he was family. Her adopted father had passed away two years ago from a stress-induced heart attack.

Peter hadn’t changed really. Only the lines on his face were deeper. The color of his skin was paler. But, his eyes remained the same. Cold and calculating. She stood and walked over.

“You came back.” Peter’s eyes took her in assessing and he appeared to find her wanting. She smiled, oddly pleased by that. It meant she had changed.

“It’s Tuesday,” Malia said then took his arm and guided them both towards the visitors’ area.

“Visiting hours end at 10 pm.” The Orderly said to Malia.

Malia glanced at her watch. They had five minutes left.

“How is Derek?” Peter said moving his head in an oddly twisted habit that he had learned at Eichen House. He seemed to be gravitating towards the large bay window and the terrace. But, it was too cold outside. “He never visits anymore.”

“He never did.” Malia’s responded bluntly.

“No.” Peter sighed disappointment in his tone. “No, he didn’t. I miss him. Do you think…”

“It’s up to him if he wants to see you.”

“He will,” Peter said confidently. “You’ll put in a good word.”

“I don’t see why I should.” Malia returned as they took their seats on two plastic chairs. They were disgustingly uncomfortable. “You set him up.”

“Cora understood.”

“She hates you.”

Peter nodded agreeably glancing at the orderly that stood watchfully behind them. He was something supernatural Malia sensed, but definitely not a were. “But, you don’t, do you.”

 “You’re family.”

“So they say.”

“Why are you so interested in Derek?”

“I’ve always cared about him.”

Malia shuddered, his caring had gotten many people killed. So many. Everything had burned because of him. Everything.

“Doesn’t matter.” Peter stood ending the conversation. “I’ll be home soon. He’ll talk to me then.”

Without knowing why, Malia shivered. There was something about his manner that unsettled her even though the Doctors assured her that Peter had atoned and he wasn’t the same man. It was moments like this that she was really sure that cheetahs couldn’t change and Peter? He was a definitely a wolf and that worried her. At least Derek was in Chicago so even if Peter was let out the chances of him tracking him down were pretty darn remote.

*****

**Chicago**

“Okay,” Derek said. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Lydia responded with a small smile. “But, specifically?”

“I want to go home,” Derek said wistfully. Lydia reached across the kitchen table and grabbed his hand. “It’s time.”


	2. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finally lands back in Beacon Hills and learns that the more things change the more the stay the same when he runs first into Stiles' new girlfriend and then into Stiles. Stiles struggles to reconcile his feelings about Derek's return and Scott struggles to recover from his injury and Kira offers him an ultimatum. Lydia tries to stop Peter Hale from being released from Eichen House.

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Home Sweet Home**

 

**Two Weeks later**

**Beacon Hills – Airport**

 

On a cold, quiet Tuesday morning two weeks later the plane landed. Peering out the tiny window Derek Hale squinted at the horizon. From this viewpoint, it looked like the skyline of Beacon Hills hadn’t changed at all. His co-passenger tapped his leg and he turned raising his eyebrows at a stylishly, but casually dressed Lydia Martin.

“Second thoughts?” She asked, her throaty voice carrying just over the sound of the engine.

Derek shrugged, noncommittal. “Not yet.” He eyed her, “You.”

Lydia laughed amused. “I still live here.”

“Not for three months.”

“I was working.”

“Sure.” Derek shrugged. “How’d Parrish like that.”

“Stop deflecting,” Lydia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You’ve been gone three years.”

“Your point?” The seat belt signs flashed off and Lydia and Derek both began to unbuckle. Lydia stood first grabbing her one carry-on suitcase.

“My point, Derek, is that you haven’t been home in three years, are you sure this is what you want?”

The cabin door opened and Derek breathed the distinct woody sense of Beacon Hills and his shoulders relaxed for the first time in two and half months. “This is home.”

Lydia threaded their fingers together and smiled relieved. “It’s home.”

It wasn’t until they were walking through the smoothly polished floors of the terminal that Derek realized he hadn’t actually told anyone he was coming home. He’d just allowed Lydia to help him pack up his life in Chicago and hadn’t really thought about sharing the news with anyone. “Lydia.”

Lydia paused mid-stride and turned red hair flipping with the suddenness of her movement. Seeing his face, she stopped and grabbed his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, buddy!” A suitcase wearing traveler exclaimed annoyed, “You can’t just stop in the middle, move to the side.”

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Lydia snapped irritated, “In the midst of a crisis here.”

Suitcase traveler flipped up his middle finger, Derek was tempted to flash his eyes, but he didn’t want to get caught on the security cameras. That was the last thing he needed. It had been hard enough getting through the eye test earlier. Lydia had no such qualms and flashed both middle fingers at him.

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked again. It sounded like she been repeating it several times.

“I don’t …” Derek floundered waving a hand. “I haven’t told anyone I’m coming back…”

Lydia was always too smart and she knew exactly what he really was asking. “You mean you haven’t warned Stiles, right?”

Derek waved a hand conceding. “I should’ve—“

Lydia cut him off. “I told him as soon as we… you decided it.”

Derek stared at her feeling oddly betrayed.

“Don’t give me that look, Derek. He’s my friend. One of my best,“ Lydia said firmly at his look she pursed her lips nonplussed. “You’re my friend too, idiot. I don’t choose sides. You’re both stupid, but. I love you. I love him. You knew this.”

“But—“

Lydia stepped forward earnest and decisive. “He had a right to know his ex-boyfriend was coming home.”

Derek took a deep steadying breath rallying. “How’d he take it?”

“He was fine.” Lydia shrugged, eyes turning thoughtful, “He didn’t have a problem with it. You know what he said to me?”

Shaking his head Derek held his breath.

“’It’s been nearly three years. I’ve moved on and he has you know, he’s got a girlfriend now,” She frowned at him assessing his reaction like the scientist she was. “Second thoughts?”

“I…” Derek considered the question. The news that Stiles knew that he was coming home had thrown him, but it saved him from making the call himself and facing that awkward conversation for one or two more days at least. Beacon Hills was a small town they were bound to run into each other eventually and it was better that Stiles was prepared at least.

Lydia shook his hand trying to get his attention. “Derek? Are you having second thoughts, because I can put you on a plane back to Chicago?”

Squaring his shoulders, Derek shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

Lydia nodded in that emphatic way that she had and pulled at his hand and started walking guiding him towards the luggage carousels. “Come on, Jordan is waiting for us and we have to get your suitcase.”

“I still can’t believe you only have one bag,” Derek grumbled good-naturedly.

“Plan. Pack. Post.” Lydia declared with mock solemnity. “When you have traveled as much as I have you learn pretty quick how to survive on one suitcase.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Oh, my god, you’re a boy.” Lydia rolled her eyes dismissively. “Of course, you don’t.”

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later after Derek had finally collected his suitcase he connected with what Lydia had told him. “Stiles’ has a girlfriend?”

“Uh huh, serious too, I guess.” She was distracted from continuing as pushing through the terminal door, Lydia caught sight of her husband. She squealed in delight dropping her carry bag at Derek’s feet and running forward to a waiting Parrish. Parrish still dressed in his deputy uniform grinned in joy grabbing Lydia and swinging her around. He planted a wistful and happy kiss on Lydia’s forehead.

“Derek” Parrish greeted when he arrived carrying their bags. Derek held out his hand and Parrish laughed and pulled him into a hug. “It’s about time you came home, buddy. I’ve missed you.”

Swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat Derek smiled and said teasingly. “I saw you last week.”

“Skype’s not the same” Parrish returned grabbing the suitcases and placing them in his car. “Now, we can actually catch up, you know like normal people.”

“You were never normal, Parrish.” Derek laughed.

“Don’t we all know it?” Lydia said sweetly as they all clambered into Parrish’s tiny Toyota.

“Well, you do set me on fire.” Parrish threw back.

Lydia groaned. “That was bad. You’re out of practice.”

Parrish eyed Derek in the backseat and winked at him. Parrish was baiting Lydia and she was falling for it. Derek hid his smile as Lydia turned to him and asked him again. “Second thoughts?”

“Not a one.”

“Good to hear.” Parrish kicked the car into gear and it grunted with effort as he drove out of the airport pick up lane.

Squeezed into the back next to the suitcases Derek let the joyful repartee of Lydia and Parrish flow over him and they were sweet to watch and Derek smiled. At least some relationships had lasted in the past three years even if he and Stiles hadn’t.

*****

**Beacon Hills**

**Veterinarian Clinic**

The Beacon Hills Vet clinic was quiet. Which was good. It allowed Scott to focus on the task at hand. A minor surgery. A de-sexing of a small beagle.

Scott held the scalpel and prepared to make and the incision in the beagle that was lying prostrate on the surgical table. It was a simple surgery nothing he hadn’t done before, but the scalpel wouldn’t hold steady. The instrument was gently removed from his hand and Scott met Deaton’s measured gaze.

“Let me do this one.” It wasn’t a question and Scott acquiesced with a frustrated sigh. He could still feel the tremors shaking his arm and it left his blood boiling. He flexed his hand and then did again.

“Are you doing the exercises?” Deaton asked, beginning the surgery that Scott had been unable too.

A bitter laugh escaped before he could push it down. “Oh, yeah. Every damn day.”

“If you’re consistent—“

Scott stroked the beagle’s head gently frowning when he saw that his hand was shaking. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course.” Deaton nodded towards the thread and needle on the surgery tray. “Can you thread that for me, please?”

The bastard was goading him Scott thought. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed the needle and met Deaton’s gaze defiantly. He picked up the thread between his thumb and forefinger and tried to thread the needle.

He tried eight times before he threw down on the tray and walked out.

It was the first time that Scott had left Deaton alone in the surgery in three years. He pushed out of the small consultant room and slammed into the supply closet and was so focused on running he didn’t see Kira in the waiting room holding a bag of takeout watching him with concerned eyes.

He rested his hands on a cage and allowed the change to roll over him, to let the anger out. He wanted to roar his frustration, but he couldn’t he let out a silent scream and squeezed the rings of the cage with all his might.

The thin metal racks bent and twisted underneath his hands. Seeing the destruction before him Scott stepped back. Disgusted with himself.

“Um so…” Kira's soft voice echoed through the supply closet. “You should know that I’ve talked to my Dad.”

Scott froze, his heart sinking. “Kira—“

“He said, it’s okay for me to move back in with him. I mean Mom’s in New York working so he is lonely so it kind of make sense for me -”

“No wait, we said for better or worse, right?” Scott said shifting around to face her. He stepped forward hastily trying to stop her from leaving. Kira scuttled back a step. He froze watching her carefully. “Right?”

“I know.” Kira agreed. “It’s pretty worse right now, huh?” She squared her shoulders, hair flipping back. “But, you need some time. You’re out of control right now and –“

“Babe. I’m still me.”

Kira held her ground and shook her head. “That’s just it. You’re not… You just left surgery. You just left an animal on the cutting table?! You don’t do that. You don’t. You’re not the man I married and you’re not even trying to get better. Just because it’s taking –“

“You don’t understand.”

“I know.” Kira’s hands clenched the takeout bag tightly. “But, you were human once, right? It took a while to heal then, you know with your asthma. Stiles--”

“Asthma is a condition.” Scott dismissed.

“Condition, yeah.” Kira agreed. “So, maybe, don’t be so hard on yourself? Remember when… Remember in high school, because you have a condition, because if you don’t do something soon…”

She was giving him an ultimatum. Scott realized with dawning horror. “You’re really going to leave me?”

“I don’t want too.” Kira smiled, although tears were beginning to track down her cheeks. “But, I will.” She swiped at her face. “I will Scott if you don’t start listening to someone. Talk to Stiles. Talk to your Mom if you can’t talk to me. Because if you don’t…” She couldn’t finish her voice cracking. She shoved the takeout into Scott’s numb hands and backed out the open supply closet door.

Scott dropped the bag of takeout onto the floor and turned back around. The twisted metal bars of the cage catching his attention. Sinking down to the ground his back against the wall, Scott stared at the broken twisted thing for a long time and for some reason it reminded him of Allison. He couldn’t lose Kira like he’d lost her.

 

****

**Beacon Hills Police Department**

**Stilinski’s office – Late afternoon.**

A gentle knock made Sherriff Stilinski look up from his reports to find Lydia Martin at his door. She was dressed in a simple blue dress and black leather jacket, red hair cascading down around her face. Moving around the desk he greeted her with a warm hug and kiss to the forehead. “Welcome back. Are you looking for Parrish?”

Lydia pulled away and looked up at him earnest. “No. Actually, I’m here about Peter Hale.”

“That’s…” The Sherriff waved at Lydia to take a seat. She did perching herself on the edge of the chair and waited for him to return to his chair before speaking.

“I want to know if you think me appearing as a witness at the hearing will make a difference.”

“Hey, Dad, I got the report on the –“ Stiles walked holding up a salad pack and more files. “What did you say?”

Lydia ignored Stiles and focused on the Sherriff. “Would it?”

“Dad—“

The Sherriff glanced at his son and held up his hand. “Why do you want too?”

“Why shouldn’t I…” She paused gathering her thoughts, “Malia doesn’t… she wasn’t there for before and Derek…” Lydia cut a glance to Stiles and so did the Sherriff, Stiles glared at them both and then made a continue hand gesture to Lydia, “and Derek shouldn’t have to speak. Peter Hale no matter the validity of the reasons why is a psychopath and he should remain in Eichen House.”

He’d been afraid she was going to say something like that as soon as she had said Hale’s name. He sighed considering the paperwork he had seen already and the chat he’d had with Deaton as well. “Honest answer?”

“Of course.”

“The wheels on this thing are already in motion.”

Stiles swore softly.

The Sherriff watched Lydia take that in doe eyes blinking rapidly as she looked away from the Sherriff staring out the window. There was real fear on her face even though she was trying to hide it. Her next words weren’t meant for him.

“I don’t want to scream anymore,” She worried at her bottom lip.

“Aww hell” The Sherriff stood up quickly, but Stiles beat him to her side. The Sherriff placed a hand on her shoulder as Stiles crouched down in front of her and shook her arm to grab her attention. “It won’t happen. Lydia? Lydia, look at me. It won’t happen.”

Lydia’s suddenly eerie unfocused gaze returned to Stiles and she gave him a sad look. “It will. It always will.”

Stiles' eyes snapped up to his father and while his voice was confident the apprehension in them was clear. “If it does. We’ll know what to do.”

*****

**Beacon Hills**

**Preserve - 5 am**

The preserve was quiet in the morning. Dew stuck to the ground like paint on a wall. Footfalls sounded out thudding like a heartbeat. Steady and strong. Growing louder as they banked an edge and crossed the stream towards the car park.

It was Derek who broke through the tree line first followed closely by Malia. He doubled over for show pretending to breathe hard. Malia punched him on the shoulder playfully.

“Faker. Did you catch the scent—“

“Of the rabbit.” Derek nodded. “It was days old.”

“Weird,” Malia commented. “Don’t you think it was too quiet?”

“Not really. It’s winter.” Derek shrugged drinking in the quiet and frosty surroundings. Ice clung to the trees, but it wasn't snowing like it used too in Chicago and it was nice for once to not have to hide who he truly was and to just run free. He had on occasion back in Chicago and although he’d never admit it to anyone, he had felt like a caged animal in the big city. Trapped by the concrete walls. The city had served its purpose allowing him to rebuild a life and start afresh. He’d made a life. A life without anyone knowing what he was and his legacy. It had been nice.

Malia was scenting the air chasing something. “Can’t you smell that?”

Raising his head, Derek closed his eyes and breathed in. Pine. Rotting leaves. Rotting…

“Hi.” A voice said breaking the moment. Derek started he hadn’t sensed anyone approach so intent on finding what had unsettled Malia.

Opening his eyes, he found a Californian blond woman dressed in thermal running gear standing nearby. Malia stepped forward between Derek and the girl which set Derek’s nerves on edge. “Heather.”

“Malia.” The girl, no, Heather said with a genuine and warm smile. “Running with wolves I see.”

“You would know.” Malia returned shifting forwards. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Heather pulled at her beanie, her gaze moving to Derek with intent watching for his reaction. “Stiles? He’s at work.”

Malia frowned. “I thought he had a shift tonight.”

Heather raised an eyebrow. “He does, Frankie's sick with the flu.”

Oh. Derek realized. She was the girlfriend. The one Stiles had moved on with. Derek remembered her now. She was the girl he’d seen Stiles with at graduation. He could still see the possessive way this girl had run her hand down Stiles’ arm. He had watched Stiles cross the stage and then left before he could be seen. He hadn’t wanted to make it awkward by suddenly showing up when apparently Stiles no longer cared. “Cops work long hours” Derek agreed.

“So do EMTs.” Heather countered, gaze still on Derek. Heather held out her hand sidestepping Malia in a complicated movement and whether her hand was shaking from cold or nerves, Derek couldn’t tell. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Heather. Stiles’ girlfriend. You’re Derek, right? 'The Derek' that everyone talks about? I feel like I know you already.”  She smiled at it wasn't malicious, but it wasn't kind either.

“I bet,” Derek said, he shook her hand delicately afraid he’d clench it too hard and break something. She seemed like a fragile thing, but looks could be deceiving Derek knew all too well. “Nice to meet you.”

Her smile faltered when she realized that Derek didn't have the same recognition.

“Yes, he’s ‘the Derek.'” Malia put up her hands and made quotation marks. Derek hid a smile, Lydia and Stiles would’ve been so proud of her. “Derek. This is Heather. She’s Stiles’ girlfriend, has been for a while. You should know that there’s nothing special about her.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a Were. Thank goodness.” She stopped. “No. I’m not doing this.” She reached out and tapped Derek on the chest and he frowned in surprise at the forwardness. “It was nice to meet you, Derek. I really hope we can be friends.” She iced Malia with a flint eye look. “Malia.”

"Heather," Malia waited until Heather had moved just out of earshot. “She’s actually really sweet. Bitch.”

******

  **Beacon Hills**

**General Hospital – 7.03am**

Leaning against the waiting room wall Stiles watched the clock at the nurses’ station click over to 7.04am.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair forcing it to sit more askew. He glanced over to where Parrish was wrestling with the paperwork. He had a gash on his arm that had needed stitches. Lydia was going to be pissed about it, but if anyone could talk her down from a fit of red-haired rage, it was Parrish.

He frowned in surprise watching Derek Hale dressed in EMT uniform walk through the entry carrying a tray of coffees with his ride-along partner, Kira Yukimura. Stiles breathed a subconscious sigh of relief. Derek hadn’t seen him, Kira had, but Stiles shook his head. Don’t come over. She gave him a disapproving look before following Derek.

Stiles watched as Derek and Kira joked with the nurses offloading the coffees to each of them at the Admin desk.

They worked well together from what Stiles had heard. It wasn’t a surprise. Kira’s kinetic energy had always been grounded by Derek’s although Stiles mused, Scott would always be her first priority especially now. They’d only just started working together before Derek had left. Kira had managed but had gone through partners like water. No one had lived up to the legacy Derek had left behind.

Stiles still couldn’t believe he was back, but a part of him wasn’t surprised. Beacon Hills called on some fundamental level to all of the Hale family except maybe Cora who was deeply embedded in South America in a way that no one not even Malia and Lydia could understand.

He moved to the coffee machine and plugged in some money. He felt deeply tired and frustrated about how the domestic had gone down, Stiles watched the coffee machine spit out the best and worse Nestle hot chocolate for a dollar. They should’ve gotten there sooner and maybe the husband wouldn’t have gotten hurt the way he did. Domestics where women were the abuser always reminded him on some level of Kate Argent and that circular thought led him back to Derek.

Derek who really was back.

Derek, who had been back for a week, and a half and hadn’t sought him out.

Stiles really didn’t know how he felt about that. But, Derek had never been one for chasing awkward social interactions despite his huge martyr complex. He rubbed at his brow surprised that it had actually taken this long for him to see Derek considering they both worked first line.

He glanced back raking his eyes over Derek. He still looked fighting fit. Werewolves’ man. It wasn’t fair. Although, at a cursory glance he could see what it was Lydia had alluded to on the phone. There was something about Derek that just seemed tired like he’d been working back-to-back shifts for months and knowing Derek he probably had been. It was nothing new for people in their jobs.

The chocolate bubbled and finished pouring. Parrish nudged his shoulder just as he was grabbing the hot chocolate and it spilled a little on his hand. He hid the flinch as he turned. “You done?”

“Almost.” Parrish held up his arm, which was now strapped with ice. “They want to get a scan.”

Stiles frowned. “It’s not broken is it?” It was honestly hard to believe that a man that could survive fire could still suffer from a broken bone. But, Hell Hounds weren’t quite as hardy with the self-healing as werewolves strangely.

Parrish let out a sigh. “They’re not sure.” He plucked at the ice pack. “But, probably not.”

“How hard did she hit you, man?” Stiles breathed out in surprise.

“Hard enough,’ Parrish stole Stiles’ cup and took a long sip. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Stiles,” Parish said, “You know that you can’t… “

“It’s not that, well, it is, what about that kid man, he saw everything and the way she was…”

“That kid’s not a Hale.” Parrish said and then his eyes widened comically in horror as he peered over his shoulder. Stiles closed his eyes, of course, Derek would hear that “Hey Derek, --“ Parrish waved a hand in greeting. “Sorry, that wasn’t--”

So much for avoiding awkward meet and greets. Stiles turned as Derek shrugged looking supremely uncomfortable. He avoided their gazes and up close the bruises underneath his eyes were darker more defined. “It’s okay.” It clearly wasn’t.

Parrish and Stiles exchanged a glance.  “Listen, man,” Parrish tried again. “I just..”

 “Parrish?” A Nurse called out.   Parrish met Derek’s gaze and Stiles felt like he was missing a whole side of their conversation. It was moment’s like this that he’d forgotten how close they'd become. Parrish never spoke about Derek to him, even though he and Derek were almost best friends and in the same way that Lydia was one of his.

“Parrish?” The nurse called again.

“Go.” Derek gestured. Parrish left leaving Stiles and Derek alone for the first time since that god-awful moment in the hotel room where Derek had broken his heart. “Bad call?” Derek asked finally in the awkward silence that followed.

“Domestic.” Stiles slurped his hot chocolate really trying not to think about the husband who had just been brained by his wife in front of his kid.

“Oh,” Derek's eyes moved away from Stiles and going distant to something only he could remember. Before Stiles could say anything, though, Derek’s attention returned.

“You missed the McCall dinner.” Stiles said and then winced knowing that Derek actually hadn’t been invited. Stiles wanted to avoid the day where his girlfriend and his ex-boyfriend were in the same room as long as possible. Scott being the loyal friend that he was seemed to be on the same page even if his wife wasn’t.

Derek's eyebrows danced in confusion, but he shrugged dismissively. “House hunting.” It was a transparent lie. Stiles knew via Parrish that Derek had moved into Lydia’s rental apartment.

Stiles didn’t comment on it even though the look in Derek’s eye was almost daring him too. “Oh, of course, house hunting, what with the move and all makes sense,” he said instead, debating the distance to all the exits. This was awkward. This careful dance of words that they were doing was like tap dancing on shards of glass knowing it was going to bleed no matter what you did. No, actually, Stiles thought, this was worse than being interviewed for his job at the Police Department by his father.

The silence seemed to stretch again like an elastic band pulled taut.

Derek sighed deep and long, eyes bruised. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinked rapidly trying to figure out where that comment came from within the current conversation because there was no way they walk talking about the other stuff here. No way. “What are you sorry for?” It came out harsher and more vicious than he intended.

Derek visibly blinked taken aback evidently uncertain about what he was referring too. After a moment he waved a hand gesturing to the waiting room or Beacon Hills Stiles wasn’t sure, “For not… I should’ve warned you that I was back and not Lydia.”

“Fuck. Don’t be sorry.” Stiles threw the drink away. It landed with a thud into the bin. “Derek. We’re not…” He paused rephrasing. “What I mean to say, is that you don’t need to do that anymore.”

The words meant to reassure had the opposite effect and it looked like had just pelted Derek with a BB gun for kicks. It had always amused Stiles that Derek had no idea how expressive he was. Derek honestly thought he had the best poker face ever and occasionally he did, but when it was about his heart, he could never hide a thing. Even now he could see the flicker of hurt at his words and Stiles wanted to say something to reassure, but everything he said left wounds and that left one thing. Silence. Reunions were terrible at the best of times.

“Okay, um, good, well glad to have cleared that up.” Derek turned to go but paused turning back straightening his shoulders and met Stiles gaze determinedly, “Hey, I know you probably wish you could’ve made more of a difference with that call.” Stiles opened his mouth to say something and Derek held up a hand barreling on. “I don’t really know the details, but you should know that I saw you with that kid earlier. You made a difference. You do make a difference.” He smiled, and Stiles was captivated as he always was by the easy way he seemed to smile now. “You did with me, and I’m sure that…” He looked away and then his gaze snapped back, “this doesn’t mean much I suppose now… But, I was there, you know?” Off Stiles confusion he clarified. “At your graduation and I was …” Derek gave him a half pained smile, “but you were there with that girl, Heather? I think her name was… and I just, it seemed like you had moved on, and apparently you have, but do you remember what you said?” He grimaced clarifying, “ Sorry, what you said to Scott?”

Feeling blindsided by the news that Derek had been at his graduation, Stiles cut in breathing out harshly, “You were there.... you actually came?"

Derek shrugged, a concession that he'd been there. "Do you remember what you said?"

Scrubbing at his chin, Stiles said, "I remember, actions matter, this town needs people to protect it.”

Derek nodded. “And you do, Stiles. Don’t ever forget that.”

At a loss on how to respond Stiles nodded throat tight. “Thanks.”

Derek waited a moment as if to see if Stiles was going to say anything else before he turned and walked back to meet Kira where she was waiting.

“How’d it go?” Kira asked her voice carrying across the now quiet waiting room.

Derek glanced back to Stiles, who tried to look like he couldn’t hear a word even though everything in him was straining to hear. “Awful… it was fine.”

“Are you going to come to Sunday lunch then?”

“That might be pushing it,” Derek said with a quick glance towards Stiles and then pushing through the ER doors towards their EMT truck. Kira spun around and gave Stiles a baleful glare and he held up his hands trying to say that he would talk to Derek. She gave him a quick fleeting smile and thumbs up.

Stiles glanced at the clock and saw that it now had clocked over to 7.23am. He stared at watching the seconds ticked by, Derek had come to his graduation. Derek had turned up like he said would, but he hadn't seen him and then Heather... His stomach turned in remembrance of that day. "Fuck." He muttered, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead to forestall the headache that he could feel coming on. 

A nurse walking by side-eyed him and he shrugged an apology.  He was startled by the Emergency doors sliding open and his father striding in. “Stiles.” He barked.

Snapping to alert status Stiles moved over. “What happened?”

“We’ve got a body in the woods. I need you and Parrish to check the scene.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he swore his eyes snapping to where Derek had just been standing. He asked his next question with trepidation. “How fresh?”

The Sherriff sighed deeply. “It’s been there a week and a half.”

Stiles knew that look and he ran a hand through his hair. “No. Dad. Derek didn’t do it.”

The Sherriff eyed Stiles seriously. “Are you sure?”


	3. My Way Home Is Through You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ripples begin to show in the pack's stability with Derek's return. Stiles begins to investigate the discovery of the body in the woods and worries about it could mean for them all. Kira struggles with Scott's injury and it's impact on their relationship and wonders if they would treat her the same way as they have Derek if she left Scott. Oblivious to the effect his return is having on everyone Derek visits Peter in Eichen House and then encounters Stiles. Malia's store preparations continue as the grand opening edges closer.

PART THREE:

My Way Home Is Through You

 

**Stiles’ Townhouse.**

In the modest townhouse, crime scene photos were strewn over the wooden kitchen table. Brow furrowed in concentration Stiles didn’t hear the soft footfalls on the wooden floorboards until a hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped startled and pressed a hand to his heart. “Oh my God!” He turned, leaning back and found Heather standing there wearing a concerned expression.

“Did you stay up all night?”

Craning his neck back, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “No. I just… I just got up early.”

“How early? Hun, you just finished a double.”

“I don’t know, just couldn’t sleep… but I’m not on till later today so…” Stiles shrugged eyes drifting back to the files. He was missing something. He didn’t want to think there was a connection between this murder and the Hale family, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. “You working?”

Heather nodded, and he realized belatedly, that she was dressed for work. “Hospital administration never sleeps.”

He was about to make a dirty, lewd comment when Heather frowned. “Stiles?” She reached forward and picked up a photo up from where it was hidden behind a witness statement and underneath a magnifying glass. “What’s that?”

She placed the photo in front of him and pointed at something in the picture. There was something engraved on a tree just behind where the body had been found. He picked up the photo and squinted in puzzlement at the markings. “Huh, I’m not sure.”

Heather handed him the magnifying glass then moved over to the coffee pot and began preparing a fresh batch. “It’s probably just kids.”

“Maybe,” Stiles agreed absently, finger tracing the lines. He couldn’t quite make out the shape of the marks. He was going to have to go out and get another look.

“I remember when I was fourteen, me and Erica—“

“Oh yeah? Erica and you were friends?”

“No.” Heather shook her head. “No… we just ended up in detention…”

“What?! You got sent to detention?” Stiles looked away from the photo.

“No,” Heather said with a smirk, “Just checking to see if you were paying attention.”

“Babe,” Stiles said standing and moving over to her. “I always listen to you.”

“I know,” Heather said, although there was doubt all over her face. She placed her hands on his hips as Stiles pulled her against him. “Your friend has her store opening soon.”

Stiles gave her a quick tight hug and then stepped away to grab mugs for the coffee. “She’s got everyone prepping for it. She’s your friend too.”

Heather pulled a face at that but nodded. “It’s her first store in her hometown…. Who can blame her?” Heather laughed. “If it were me I’d be tearing my hair out.”

Stiles grinned, his eyes drifting back to the table and the files. “Yeah, probably.” He wondered if he could rope Parrish into joining him on the field trip before he went to the shop front. He sat back down at the table rearranging the files into an order that worked for him.

He needed something to help him tie it together “Hey, Babe, can you get me some red string?”

There was no answer, and he looked up to find that Heather had disappeared. “Babe?!” He called out.

“Yeah?” Heather stuck her head back in her satchel handbag in hand. “I gotta jet.”

“Can you get me some red string?”

Heather’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “Why?”

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth Stiles raised an eyebrow he knew she knew why there was a large board in the second bedroom of their townhouse that currently housed his murder board. He hadn’t used it in three years. It had been retired when he joined the force.

“I just need it is all,” Stiles said finally, “Maybe some green and yellow as well.”

“Fine.” Heather said and then moved bussing a kiss on his forehead and left. Stiles barely had time to register it before she was gone. He grabbed his coffee and phone and dialed Parrish’s number from memory. The coffee was bitter on his tongue Heather had added too many beans like she always did.

“Dude, do you have time to meet me at the Preserve?” He asked as poured the coffee down the drain.

*****

**Beacon Hills**

**Preserve**

“You should take a photo.”

Parrish’s voice wafted across the clearing. Stiles shot him a brief glance.

“We did that already.” Stiles stared at the grooves that had been scarred into the tree trunk. Into the bark. “Do you have any idea what this means?”

“Take a photo.” Parrish shivered, wrapping his Beacon Hills PD windbreaker closer around him. “I’m freezing here.”

“Okay, Okay,” Stiles snapped a photo of the grooves using his phone. Then he walked around the trunk of the tree in question trying to find more clues. He glanced diagonally to the right and walked towards the closer tree and frowned. There was another marker. Following the same pattern, he moved diagonally to the left and walked to the tree directly in the line of sight. Another marker.

Curious, Parrish traced his movements. He paused frowning taking it in. “That’s weird. “

“Take a photo.” Stiles mocked. The two men traced the lines of the markings. Stepping back they were surprised to see it formed a weird kind of triangle. Stiles glanced around trying to find more markers, more scars on the trees. But these were the only fresh ones.

He glanced up at the sky and then back through the woods remembering the stump that haunted him for so many years. He rubbed at his breastbone consideringly. “How far are we from the tree?”

“Far enough.” Parrish crouched down and stabbing at the dirt with a twig. “Think it’s connected?”

They could never be sure, but it seemed unlikely. If it was something to do with the tree he was sure he would’ve felt it. “We need Lydia to look at this.” Stiles clicked his fingers at Parrish. “Send her the photos.” He spun around and walked over to look down at the place where the body had been discovered by a hiker. It was right in the middle of the triangle. “I don’t like this.”

I don’t want to scream anymore.

Lydia’s voice whispered in his ear and Stiles would do everything he could to make sure that didn’t happen.   “How old was the Vic?” He wondered.

“Does that matter?”

“If it was some kind of ritual.” Stiles frowned pondering the scene and flashing back to the crime scene photos. “I don’t think the victim was the most important part.” He mused and wandered back over to the grooves running a finger down it. “I think they were bait.”

“For whom?”

Stiles had no idea and that gnawed at him. He couldn’t stop something if he had no idea what they were up against. “Is Lydia still at work?” Parrish inclined his head, of course.

“Think we can make a stop there on the way?”

Half an hour later and casually dressed wearing her auburn boots, and her lab coat Lydia peered at the photo on Stiles phone. “And you have no idea what it means?’

“None.”

Stiles was at a loss. He was hoping that Lydia might be able to find something in her bestiary. It had become a massive a database, but if Lydia could find some kind of connection between those grooves and the murder. She would.

*****

**Beacon Hills**

**Fire Watch House 3**

Kira toweled her hair dry. It had been a long shift. Yet, the Watch House lockers were quiet. Most of the team electing to finish off their dinner in the mess, which had been interrupted by a call to a small house fire. It was only her and Derek getting changed into street clothes - their shifts over. She gave him a little pat on the back. “Good work today.”

Derek gave her a measured look. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean, I know you know that you did a good job. So did I, I guess? You didn’t say.” She stopped. She hadn’t asked him if he was okay being her boss, considering his wealth of on the job experience in Chicago, but he seemed fine with it. “Is it weird being back? Me being your boss?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek answered, which wasn’t really an answer at all.

She hung the towel in her locker and pulled on a black thermal sweater. “Does that mean I should?”

“How’s Scott?” Derek yanked his boots on and stamped them out to get comfortable.

Kira hesitated and it made Derek's eyes snap to her and she found herself wondering harshly, “Why do you care now? You never did before,” She winced. “Sorry, no he's all right.”

“Okay.” Derek shrugged pulling on his old worn leather jacket. His eyes drifted to the window and he frowned.

Kira twisted her lips in thought. “You’re on the new estate, right?”

Derek nodded, his eyes snapping away from the window and meeting hers.

“Is it expensive?” She wondered things with Scott were improving, but she wondered if maybe if moving in with her father wasn’t an option if this might be a better fit. She watched several thoughts flicker through Derek’s eyes and then he rolled a shoulder confessing.

“It’s Lydia’s.”

“Huh.” Kira frowned wondering if he was paying rent or if he was getting it for free.

He paused and frowned at her. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, “No reason.”

Derek shrugged taking that at face value.

Suddenly, Kira felt a strong surge of affection for him. It was one of the things that she had missed most about working with Derek. The calm way he’d just accept her responses and her boundaries. He never pushed. “No. I mean, of course, I have a reason…”

“Scott’s waiting outside for you.” Derek interrupted with a nod to the window. He’d tapped the side of his nose and whatever she was going to say about how she had forced Scott onto the sofa and that she’d almost moved in with her, Dad went out the window.

“He’s here!” She ducked over to the window and jumped up hanging from the slight frame to grab a peak. Sure enough. Derek had been right. There Scott was sitting in his car waiting. He gave her a tentative smile when he spied her peering at him.

She dropped back down. “Why is he here?”

That did make Derek pause from where he was slinging his gym bag over his shoulder “I could …”

“No. Yes.” She sat down on the bench and twisted her hands together thoughtful. She really wasn’t sure what to do.

“Kira?” Derek’s voice was careful, considerate. "Are you okay?"

She gave a shrug and pointedly nodded at the window. Whatever she wanted to say was going to be overheard, possibly, if Scott wanted too.

Taking her hand, Derek tugged her up to standing and gently helped her out the door. He gave her a quick warm hug, his words were whisper soft in her ear. “My experience? If he’s here to see you, that’s a good sign.”

She wrapped her arms around him tight. “Thanks, Derek.” He nudged her away. Squaring her shoulders she went outside to greet Scott. Derek followed a step behind.

From where he sat in the driver’s seat Scott waved at Derek as she hopped into the car closing the door with a shiver. “Oh my god, it’s cold,” She exclaimed. She shut the door with a slam.

Scott leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek and then hesitated. “I’m sorry about before.”

Kira reached for his hand. “I don’t mind.”

“You do, though.” Scott said countered. “And you should.”

She had no idea how to respond to that because he was right on both counts. She squeezed his hand instead and released it. Through the windscreen, they both watched Derek begin walking down towards the bus stop. “How’s he doing?”

Kira scrunched her face up, considering. “Okay. I guess? I mean I think he’s all right.The first couple of weeks back on the job are always...”

“Is he actually catching the bus?” Scott shot her look, colored with surprise. He started the car and kicked it into drive. He maneuvered so they ended up rolling along beside Derek, who had hunched into the cold. Kira wound down her window and leaned out. “Hey, Derek?”

Derek stopped walking heel crunching on the pavement and turned towards them. “Kira.”

“You want a lift home?” She asked.

Derek smiled thinly looking beyond her to Scott. “No. It’s all right.”

She heard more than saw Scott let out an annoyed breath clearly hearing something in his tone that she couldn’t and he leaned over, crowding into her space so he could meet Derek’s gaze. “Dude. It’s fine. It’s on our way.”

Derek shifted on his feet a little and then sighed as he saw his bus round the corner and pull to a stop behind Scott’s truck. “No, it’s okay. You should go. My bus is here.”

“Really. You sure?” Scott questioned ignoring the honking bus behind him.

Derek smiled and Kira frowned at the way it didn’t reach his eyes. She didn’t know what had happened between Scott and Derek, but she knew that something had happened. She had a feeling that something was Stiles.

“You bet. I’m picking up my car from the depot anyway.” Derek waved them away and moved towards the bus.

Scott huffed and started the car and pushed it out into the traffic. “Do you believe that?” He said staring into the rearview mirror watching as Derek boarded the bus.

Kira punched the button to put the window up and then said quietly and firmly. “You’re going to need to apologize.”

Scott took his eyes off the mirror and glanced at her. “I already said I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t mollify her not after what she just witnessed between Derek and Scott. “Not to me.” She nodded back towards the bus and Scott’s eyes widened comically.

“To Derek!” Scott said, turning left at the lights. “Why do I need to apolog-?”

She frowned, chewing on her fingernail as she saw that as they were heading away from their home. “Yes.” Kira interrupted. “And because he’s your friend. Where are we going?”

“I know that!” Scott’s voice rose an octave defensively. “But, what have I done –“

“Does he?” Kira asked. “When was the last time you just had a chat, out of the blue, called him up and said, hey Derek how’s your day…”

“Of course…” Scott trailed off apparently thinking hard his hand flexing absently against the steering wheel.   “Derek’s… He’s… Derek.”

“He’s Stiles ex-boyfriend.” Kira filled in. “But, he was and …” at his look she amended. “I dunno is your friend. So maybe you want to make sure—“

“Stiles is…”

“I know what he is to you.” Kira cut in again. “What Stiles is to me. I’m just saying…” She stopped frustrated and then gnawed at her bottom lip. “All I’m saying is that when they broke up you made sure everyone knew that Stiles was your priority and I gotta say if it were me in Derek’s positi—“

“What!” Scott exclaimed horrified. “I know things are bad right now… they could be better. I could be…”

“All I’m saying is,” Kira continued on regardless, “Is that it would hurt to suddenly lose everyone that claimed to care about me.”

Scott blew out a long breath trying to reign in his temper while reaching up to absently rub his shoulder. “Is this really about Derek?”

“Yes,” Kira answered firm to despite misgivings.

Even though it was clear, he didn’t quite believe her Scott gave in. “You know he still had Parrish and Lydia and whatever he has with Malia.”

Kira nodded in quick agreement. “Sure, yeah, he still had them. But, they were mostly here and he was…alone.”

Thinking about it now she felt bad that she hadn’t tried to reach out more to Derek while he had been gone. They had been partners and even though Scott had attempted to hide it losing Derek had hurt him just as much and in a different way as it had hurt Stiles. It had taken six months before she could even mention Derek’s name in passing to Scott. She wasn’t going to touch how long it had taken for Stiles. There had been a reason why she’d been afraid to tell them both about Derek appearing at Stiles’ police graduation. Although, she wondered now if things might’ve been different with them all if she had.

Eyes on the road, Scott sighed deeply. “Okay. Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you.” Kira smiled and hedging her bets leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  

Scott grabbed her hand and smiled. “Now, can we go to lunch?”

Delighted, Kira felt a broad smile bloom across her face. “We’re going to lunch?”

“We are,” Scott confirmed. “I haven’t been the best husband lately and this—“

“OH, Scott” Kira felt tears well up in her eyes. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.”

Scott smiled and if his eyes gleamed a little, she didn’t’ comment.

*****

**M-ath – Malia’s Store.**

Still in his deputy gear Stiles stood on the sidewalk and glanced at his watch and saw with surprise that it was still relatively early in the afternoon. It already felt like it had been the long day after the discussion with Heather, dropping off the photos to Lydia. He felt exhausted and he was barely eight hours into his shift. Needing a coffee hit, he’d gone on a coffee run after dropping Parrish back at the Station. While there he had thought he’d kill two birds with one stone and visit the store after he’d promise Malia he’d stop by to see it. Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels taking in the shop frontage. The front of M-ath didn’t look like much at the moment. Newspaper covered all the windows and the signage had yet to be installed. She had leased the old video store shop and he had a brief, sudden flashback to Jackson yelling at his father about police procedures. He didn’t miss him at all.

“Stiles?!” Malia called.

He frowned staring up and down the sidewalk trying to place where she was hiding and where her voice had come from.

A packet of pegs dropped down nearby and Stiles shuffled back a few steps and then looked up to find Malia peering at him from the roof of the building.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He shouted back only half jesting. If that packet had him in the head, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Malia waved a hand dismissive of the danger.“Can you bring them up? Doors open.”

Grabbing the pegs, he let himself into the store and then went upwards to the roof.

He found Malia wrestling with a large banner tying it down to hooks on the roof.

“You’re not painting the name on?”

Malia shook her head decisively. “Not yet.” She finished tying the knot and took the peg that Stiles offered. She slammed it in with a hammer. “Wanna make sure it works first.” She sent him a pleading look. “And um, need some help with the painting…”

Stiles grinned. “Say no more. I’ll rope Scott in as well.”

Malia’s relief was palpable. “It’s just the glitter.”

Stiles laughed. Malia’s hatred of all things glitter was almost equal to her hatred of maths. She had spent hours in the shower after prom trying to get the glitter out of her hair, but it had stuck there. He’d to hide his electric shaver at one point afraid she was going to shave her hair off in frustration.

“We’ll take care of it,” Stiles assured, watching as Malia made swift work of tying the banner to the building.

“Thanks.” Malia grinned at him, eyes flashing. “So….. Derek’s back.”

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. Malia shot him a knowing look and other than Lydia, Malia was the first person to ask him directly about it. He stalled. “What about him?”

The look Malia gave him was not impressed. “Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s okay.” He really didn’t know what everyone was expecting, an explosion or for him to have a meltdown. He had a girlfriend.  

A laugh erupted out of Malia. “You smell like anxiety so that’s a lie.”

“I’ve been working!” Stiles defended himself. “I always…”

“Well, true. But, before then you were just annoyed and now you smell—“

“This is private property,” Stiles said waving a hand at his body.

“Your smell is private property?” Malia said a laugh pulling at her lips.

“Yes!” Stiles said. He really didn’t want to talk about Derek to Malia of all people.

“Huh. Well…. You left me for him. If anyone should be pissed—“

“You love him don’t lie,” Stiles said with an irritated smirk. It had been really sweet to see the slow friendship build between Malia and Derek while he had dated Derek. It had only blossomed in the last three years after he’d cut Derek out of his life which pleased and irritated him at the same time.

Malia nodded. “Yeah, I do.” She stepped closer to Stiles and rested a hand on his chest. “I love you both so can you…”

“We’re friends.” Stiles countered.

“No. Sorry. That’s a big no.” Malia disagreed quietly and firmly. “We’re friends. You and Derek.” She shrugged pausing trying to find a way to say express what it was that she was thinking.

Despite himself Stiles found himself holding his breath waiting for her answer. He and Derek were over with a capital O. But, he still cared. He still wanted to know how he was doing.

“You’re…. you and Derek.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That was super helpful, thanks M.” Her answer was anticlimactic, Stiles thought. He stepped away from Malia and moving back towards the entry door.

“What I mean is…” Malia gathered her belongings and following. “Just go easy on him.”

Stiles frowned. “It’s been three years. I don’t know why everyone’s so worried.”

Malia laughed. “It’s just ‘cause it’s you two. Besides with Peter …”

“Don’t worry about him.” Stiles was going to make sure that Peter Hale didn’t cause any more trouble for the Hale family particular his daughter and his nephew.

Malia kissed his cheek in thanks. She gave him a quickly considered look then shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t…” Malia stopped and then moved past Stiles clumping down the fire escape to the store. “No. It’s … Nevermind. It’s family business. Don’t worry about it.”

Curiosity now a light, Stiles tripped down the stairs hastily after her. “What does that mean?”

Malia stopped at the bottom and the errie glow of the down lights made her hair look like it was on fire. “Peter is kinda focused on him.”

Stiles' heart skipped. “What?” He grabbed her hand. “How do you know that?”

“Because every time I see him, “ She held up a hand. “He’s my father, don’t give me that look, and anyway it’s the way he asks about Derek. It’s weird.”

“It’s Peter,” Stiles said thinking back to the last time he’d seen Peter, which had been at a parole hearing and after the fire. He really didn’t need this right now coupled with the murder investigation. He belated wondered if this was how his Dad felt sometimes.

“Right. Well. Then. I really shouldn’t tell you that this morning Derek said he might…”

She didn’t get to finish because Stiles was pushing past her and out the door. He couldn’t believe Derek was visiting Peter already.

“Hey, wait,” Malia grabbed his hand. “Stop.”

He waited. She let him go after a long beat. “Peter’s not going to hurt him.”

She honestly believed that which surprised Stiles.

She gave him a soft look. “Besides, what are you going to do? They’re just talking.”

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his chin. “That’s honestly the worst thing they could be doing.”

He continued out the door delving into his pocket for his keys and then turned back to Malia and gave her a thumbs up. “Store is gonna be AMAZING M.”

Her answering smile lit up her entire face. “Thanks.”

*****

**Eichen House**

**Beacon Hills**

It felt like the walls closed in the minute he stepped through the doors of Eichen House. Derek shivered. He felt almost disconnected from his abilities. The walls were definitely embedded with mountain ash or something similar. It was profoundly uncomfortable. He greeted with the receptionist who sat behind a glass window with a winning smile. “Hi.”

The receptionist eyed him unmoved by his smile. “And you are?

“Derek Hale.”

The receptionist eyed him up and down over her glasses.

“I’m here to see my uncle, Peter. Peter Hale”

The receptionist nodded and at some orange plastic chairs nearby. “Take a seat.”

Twenty minutes later and after a very direct conversation with Eichen House’s Director Derek found himself seated across from his Uncle for the first time in three years.

Peter eyed him like he was a mirage. “You’re here.”

Derek nodded, unsure what to say now that he was here and why he’d felt the need to visit. Lydia was going to be pissed. She told him not to visit.

Abruptly, Peter leaned forward his blue eyes flashing and intense. “Why are you here?”

“Malia said you asked for me.”

Peter sat back and gave him a small pleased smile. “She’s a good girl.”

“How are you?” Derek asked.

“No more shock therapy although that does begin to tickle.”

Without meaning too, his mind flashed back to his own electric shock treatments at the hands of Hunters, at the hands of Kate Argent. He looked down at his hands and his jaw clenched. “But, you’re better now.”

Peter chortled. “Oh, Derek.”

At the laugh, Derek's eyes narrowed.

“I talk about shock therapy and you speak of healing. How was Chicago?”

“Cold.”

“You always did hate the cold.” Peter tapped his lip and smirked.

Derek took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t forgive you and I don’t like you.”

“But.” Peter left eyebrow quirked.

“But” Derek concurred resolutely, leaning forward in his chair. It creaked underneath him. “I understand why you did what you did.”

The smile that crossed Peter’s face was calculated. “Do you?” He frowned. “Forgiveness is a funny thing, isn’t it? Tell me Derek, who really let the wolves in?”

Even though he’d been prepared for it, the words found their mark and the humiliation of being hoodwinked by Kate Argent burned through him. Peter did always know how to get under his skin. Derek pushed himself to his feet, feeling the shame pulse through his veins. The one thing he had realized over the years and had been cemented in Chicago was that he hadn’t been the only responsible he had manipulated by people he trusted. “You did.”

He pushed himself to his feet with clenched fists and as he walked away hoping that he’d had the last word Peter called out to him. “I’ve so missed our chats, nephew.”

Walking out of Eichen House he found his way to his car in a kind of haze. He felt dirty. Unclean. Being reminded about his past transgression with Kate had rubbed salt in a wound he had thought healed. He leaned forward and rested his head on the wheel taking a deep breath and then another. Shit. What he wouldn’t be able to give to talk to Laura just one more time. Just once. God, he missed her. Peter was his only real family left that linked to before, Cora had been too young, Malia too new and while they were family, they weren’t connected the same way.

A tap at the window made him bolt upright. Readying himself he turned and found Stiles dressed in uniform standing there his eyes hooded with concern. One hand looped into his belt. The other moved to rest on the top of the car. “Hey,” Stiles waved and then motioned for him to wind down the window. Derek did and tried to paste a smile on his face.

“Hey, yourself.” Derek murmured, his voice cracked and he swallowed hard. Jesus. He sounded like he’d been crying.

Stiles’ eyebrows drew together. “What happened?”

Derek shook his head. “No. It’s… It’s.” He glanced back to the hospital and then to Stiles and shrugged trying to indicate that it was fine.

Stiles made an abortive movement like he was going to grab his hand and thought better of it. “You saw him, didn’t you? “

Derek shrugged. From where they were sitting it was pretty obvious that he had. “It doesn’t matter.”

It was clear to him that Stiles found that particular argument wanting. Before he could say anything, further Derek sighed and deflected. “I met your girlfriend. Heather.”

Stiles recoiled visibly surprised. “Um, I don’t… Derek, I don’t—“

“She seems like a good person.”

“She is. Where did you even --”

“Preserve, Malia and I ran into her.”

Stiles floundered for a moment and then regrouped. It sort of pleased Derek that he could still push Stiles’ buttons like that. Then, Stiles’ look sharpened. “You were in the preserve?”

Derek stared at him. Why did it matter?

“Did you sense anything?”

“Did I sense--- Should I have?” Derek frowned, thinking back to the rotting smell. There had been something and now it clicked. He shuddered, blinking rapidly. Finally recognizing the scent… that’s what it had smelled like. It had felt like the day he had found Laura. Chasing a scent and then her severed remains. Finding half a body was somehow worse. His hands had stung for days from the wolfsbane coil that he’d buried Laura under to protect her. Peter had asked, who let the wolves in. The truth was maybe they both had, he’d been young and he’d been led astray.

“Hey?” A firm hand landed on his shoulder anchoring him back to the present. He looked over and found Stiles bent down leaning into the car. “Hey.” Stiles' hand gripped him tight, reassuring. Comforting. “You can’t…. Don’t let him in.”

Derek nodded. Although, he was afraid that he already had. Stiles released his shoulder, rubbing it up and over the back of his neck and curling in his hair before letting him go entirely. The touch so familiar and absent tingled through him.

Still half leaning against the window, Stiles gave him a reproachful look. “Sunday dinners are a thing and you’re invited.”

“Stiles-“

“Stop,” Stiles said firmly. “It’s been three years. Everything’s cool. Right?”

The back of his neck still tingled from Stiles’ touch, but Derek made himself nod and smile at the earnest expression on Stiles' face. “Yeah, of course. ‘Everything’s cool.'”

Stiles’ smile beamed at him. If it was slightly forced, Derek didn’t comment. “And then you can tell me all about Chicago and what you’ve been doing since you got back.” This unguarded interest from Stiles was so familiar that Derek felt himself unwittingly smile back. He watched Stiles walk away and fuck if he didn’t need it confirmed. He still cared about him.

*****

 

**M-Aths - Malia’s store**

**Beacon Hills**

Kira was pushing her straw around in her bottle of lemon soda water as she watched Scott and Stiles repaint the counter top. To be honest, she hadn’t minded the version that had been created, but Malia hated glitter. So a hasty all hands on deck, Scott and Stiles, paint job before the grand opening was in order. Malia was trying to help, but sadly despite her natural gifts from being a were-coyote she had no handyman abilities whatsoever. “You really think black with colored glitter looks good.”

“Better than it was at any rate” Heather sat down on the cushion beside her.

Laughing, Kira agreed. “Yeah.”

Heather shot her a look. “So, Derek seems like a nice guy.”

Holy Hannah. DEFCON alert. Kira’s heart skipped a beat. Derek hadn’t said anything today at work that they’d met. Then, of course, he wouldn’t. “He is,” Kira said carefully. From where he was working next to Stiles, Scott cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at her. Kira shrugged at him trying to say that she’d handle it. Not quite sure what to make of this interest from Heather. “He is a nice guy. A bit gruff, but his heart is in the right place.”

“I’m sure.” Heather agreed amiable and disbelieving. “Did you… see it?”

Kira knew exactly what she was talking about. She’d seen it while she was waiting for Heather to grab the earrings that she’d forgotten to put in. Ever curious she spotted it through the crack in the door to Stiles office. The Board. The Murder Board. Photos had been tacked on it sparingly, but it would only grow as Stiles dug deeper into whatever had caught his interest Kira knew from past experience. She hadn’t looked that close at it.   “Um, yeah?”

“It’s not renovation plans if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s about that murder.”

“I wasn’t… What murder?” Kira placed the now empty bottle down at her feet.

“The body in the woods?” Heather stared at her. “It was in all the papers. A body was found near the old Hale reserve.”

Kira shook her head at Heather had no idea what she was referring too.   “What, I’ve been working I don’t have time to read like—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Heather jested, “but now Stiles is bringing his work home and he hasn’t…”

That dumbfounded Kira. Stiles hadn’t brought his work home before? Stiles had brought crime scenes photos to class in high school, it surprised her that he hadn’t been bringing that stuff home before now. Stiles had never shied away from delving in deeper if an investigation needed it. Then she realized that the body had been found near the Hale reserve. Oh Boy. Unwittingly, Kira’s eyes went to Stiles. If a body had been found in the woods near the Hale property of course Stiles was investigating. It only made sense. It could’ve been something supernatural although she hoped not. It had been quiet now for a while, well, apart from the Honey Bee incident and that was best not to think about at all.

She went for placating. “Well, um, I’m sure he had a good---“

“Derek Hale?” Heather said dryly.

“Oh, Heather, I don’t think.”

“No, I honestly believe it’s great that he’s so involved that he cares about protecting this town, it makes sense after everything, but as his girlfriend--”

Scott raised his eyebrows again at Kira, which she studiously ignored. He was quite obviously eavesdropping. She wondered how Stiles wasn’t picking up on it.

“-- I can’t help but wonder at the timing, you know?”

“Oh!” Kira said with sudden realization. “You think he’s so focused because Derek is back?”

Heather offered soft, gentle nod. “Makes sense, right? I'm probably being stupid, but Derek and Stiles were…” She paused, then said, “Derek was a huge part of Stiles life and now …”

“And now he’s back.” Kira agreed.

“Yeah.”

“Stiles is with you.”

Heather nodded, “Yeah…. But.”

“Don’t ‘but’ it.” Kira took Heather’s hand and tried not to project any of her own worries onto Heather. “He loves you.”  

“Hey,” Scott called interrupting the conversation. “We’re finished!” Kira and Heather looked over and found that the men had indeed finished painting the counter and it looked stylishly impressive. The glitter this time was over top and fashionable. Malia squealed in delight. “You guys are lifesavers.”

“Do we get paid?” Stiles kidded with a grin making a show of stretching out his kinks.

“Oh shut it.” Malia threw back hefting clothing boxes over to the wall. “Isn’t my thanks enough?”

“Baby,” Stiles said, “You can’t thank me enough.”

“Where is Lydia I thought she’d be here?” Scott wondered.

“She’s at the University,” Stiles told them beginning to pack up the paint brushes into a box. “She’s looking into something for me.”

Heather shot Kira look and raised eyebrows as if to say ‘you see what I’m talking about.'

“And she’s done,” Lydia announced as she marched into the store.

Kira didn’t know how she did it, but she looked beautiful. Her red hair glinted in the store lights. Her own taste was a bit too quirky and she’d never in a million years have Lydia Martin-Parrish’s sense of style, but she could definitely appreciate it.

“With what??” Scott darted over curious to look at the file that Lydia held in her hands. Lydia gave it pointedly to Stiles.

“Sorry, Scotty, Police business,” Stiles said shoving the folder into his back pocket with a complicated fold which made Lydia roll her eyes.

Lydia greeted Malia with a kiss and a quick hug. “Malia, it’s beautiful.”

Malia’s ears went pink and she ducked her head. Bashful. “I had a lot of help.”

Lydia gripped her arm. “This is your idea. You made it happen.”

“She’s right about that,” Stiles agreed, he’d finished cleaning up with Scott and the placed the boxes of painting equipment at the front door.  

*****

**Derek’s Apartment**

A small gray basket had been left at his front door. It had been covered with black and red cellophane. Not used to being left gifts Derek stared at the item with a little bit of trepidation. He glanced about to see who had left the item, looking down the carpeted hall to the right and to the left. He really wished he’d installed a front door security webcam, but he hadn’t had time. Lydia had told him Beacon Hills was different now. Things had calmed down. But, the Chicago instinct of working a paramedic truck meant that he was all ready for the next incident. For the next shoe to drop. He bent down and poked the basket. It crinkled.

“I don’t think it bites.”

The voice was familiar and he turned and found to his surprise, Danny.

Danny gave him a dimpled grin and shrugged. “I think it’s a house warming gift dude.”

Derek rose and held out his hand. “Derek Hale.”

“I know who you are,” Danny said taking his hand a very firm shake. “Everyone in this town does.”

“I thought you were in London?” Derek said instead of responding to that particular mind field.

Danny laughed. “No. Would you believe I just moved back? I’m working with Lydia at the University.”

“Than this gift is for you.” Swooping up the basket Derek tried to hand it to Danny who laughed again.

“Dude, re-gifting already? Gerty, who lives below you, gives them to everyone and she’ll ask you about it… believe me.” Danny pretended to shudder. “It’s not worth that inquisition trust me on this.”

“You might have a point.” Derek agreed and then with a put-upon sigh tucked the gift under his arm.

Danny patted him on the arm. “Okay, well, great to see you. I’m Danny.”

“I know who you are.” Derek teased with a smile.

Danny shot him another dimpled grin. “Okay, Miguel.”

“You remember that?!” Derek laughed.

“Oh,” Danny muttered, “How could I forget?” Danny shifted around Derek. “I’m on the first floor. So, I’ll see you around. Let me know if you need anything?”

Derek nodded and watched Danny vanish down the hall. Fishing out his keys he opened the front door and placed the basket on the hall side-table. Unwrapping it, he pulled out some tea, some hot chocolate sachets, and some marshmallows. The card read simply.

TO HELP YOU SLEEP

It seems his nocturnal habits had kept his downstairs neighbor awake. Poor Gerty, he thought. Although, he’d been sleeping more since he’d returned to Beacon Hills. Taking the herbal tea, he put it aside. He never drank herbal concoctions a hangover from three years ago and living with Stiles.

He did open the marshmallows and downed a mouthful as he boiled some milk for hot chocolate. It had been a long day after seeing Peter and or he wanted to do was sleep.

Changing into sweatpants he crawled into bed.

Sleep eluded him for a long time. When he did sleep his conversation with Peter would have him wake up several hours later covered in sweat sucking in a huge lungful of icy air.

He shivered and frowned wondering if he was still dreaming as he stared up at long barren tree branches and a cold blue sky.

Then he rolled over and realized with horror that he had sleepwalked into the preserve.

He was covered in dirt.

That wasn’t the worst part he was on old Hale ground exactly where he’d found Laura before he’d buried her at the old house.

He couldn’t stop the howl that screamed free.

******

**Beacon Hills.**

**Kira and Scott – Apartment 4A.**

Sleeping on the sofa in front of a muted televisión that was playing a rerun of some nature documentary about wolves Scott jolted awake. He scrubbed at his eyes trying to figure out what had woken him and why.

A tiny baby cub of a Wolf squeaked a howl on the televisión and he frowned at it. Scott scrubbed at his face again. “Thanks, buddy,” He said to the Wolf that played in the dirt of some Wolf sanctuary. He swiped at his face again and then dragged the blanket down over him as he tried to catch a few more zzz’s before Kira woke him up.

******

**Lydia Martin-Parish’s**

**Row House**

Across town, Lydia bolted awake screaming. She threw the bed covers off.

Parrish deeply asleep beside her fell out of the bed reaching for his gun. Lydia couldn’t see him. All she could see was fog. The dirt. It felt like she could hear a bell.

Something was ringing.

“LYDIA?” Parrish asked placing his gun back into this hiding position. He crawled across the bed towards her. “Lyds?”

Lydia opened her mouth. Parrish knew what that was and he covered his ears just in time as Lydia screamed herself fully awake. She collapsed into Parrish taking a shuddering breath.

“Do you remember?”

“Only the bells,” Lydia whispered her voice hoarse. “Only the bells.”  


	4. It's Okay, I'm Only Bleeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Derek reels from sleepwalking into the Preserve, he calls Stiles' girlfriend ordinary to Kira who accidentally sends that to Heather. Lydia has another vision while meeting with Stiles about the case and then they both have a surprising revelation. Malia's athletics' store "M-Aths" opens with an opening night party, with all of the pack in attendance. Scott warns Derek not to hurt Stiles again and reminds him that his moved on. Lydia offers Heather some friendly advice while Stiles worried about Derek shares an intimate moment with him in the store room that leaves Derek reeling.

**Chapter Four:**

**It's Okay, I'm Only Bleeding"**

**Beacon Hills**

**Fire Watch House 3**

Still numb and feeling off balanced Derek pushed his way into the locker room at the Watch House to get changed into his EMT gear. It had taken him an hour to walk home. He had felt sluggish and unable to transform even into the wolf to run back. Which meant he was late. He hastily changed and snuck into the briefing room and took his place beside Kira. Busy taking notes Kira just shoved a takeaway coffee in his direction. He grabbed it allowing it to warm his hands. He still felt cold. Like he was freezing from the inside out. He tried not to think about the long cold walk back home. It was a good thing he had some werewolf healing because otherwise he would’ve been suffering from hypothermia for sure.

Sure, he now lived on the edge of the Preserve, but where he lived now was nowhere near where he’d woken up. He sat through the morning briefing in a daze absently drumming his hand against the desk. He had never sleepwalked before and couldn’t understand why he’d start now. He’d had very vivid dreams sure, but that was, he shook his head to clear it. He’d been missing Laura, and maybe his wolf had followed that instinct and led him to her real grave. The place where she had died.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Kira asked, putting her hand over his where it lay on the table.

Derek shot her a glance and thought about bluffing, but then thought better of it. “Not really.”

Kira’s eyes wandered over his face for the first time since they had sat down. “You okay? You look terrible.”

“Just didn’t sleep well.” Derek pulled his hand out from underneath hers and rose.

Kira fell into step beside him as they went to the common room to relax between any call outs. He grabbed his tablet from his locker and sighed when he realized that Kira was following his every step. She flopped down elegantly into the seat next to him on the sofa. They sat in silence for several moments, Kira busy texting on her phone. Her eyes kept darting up to him every few seconds, considering. Watchful. Annoying.

After 15 minutes, which was a fair amount of time, he thought in waiting her to spill whatever it was that was bugging her. Derek finally gave into the irritation he was feeling. “What?” He reached out for her phone and she held it just out of reach. “What?”

Kira glanced at him and her phone. “Oh…”

“Oh?” Derek baited, raising his eyebrows several degrees.

Kira carelessly threw her phone down. “You didn’t mention that you’d met Heather.”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

A wave of hurt crossed Kira’s face and he shrugged trying to ignore it.

“She’s a good person.” Kira defended.

Derek waved his hands in a familiar, ‘did I say anything’, gesture.

“You’ll like her.” Her assurance didn’t reassure.

“So everyone keeps saying,” Derek said, non-committal, hedging his bets. “She’s seems perfectly fine. She’s ordinary. I get it. I --” He was happy that Stiles had someone who was normal. Safe. He’d had enough supernatural weirdness and horror in his life already. “Good for him, I guess to be with someone like that--“

Kira wasn’t listening she was staring down at her phone like it had caught on fire. “Shit.” She grabbed it, her eyes widening. “Shit.”

“What?!” Derek asked, grabbing for the phone.

“My mic was on.”

“What?” Derek asked, confused.

“You know on your phone how it has a microphone on texts?”

He didn’t. But, that sounded like a really terrible thing to include on a smartphone. He watched as Kira dropped her phone down again and then picked it up and checked the screen. Her mic had been on. Derek had a sinking feeling. “Who were you texting?”

Kira winced and shrunk back from him. “Don’t get mad.”

“Who, Kira?”

“Um… so… Heather?”

Oh, that was worse than he assumed. Not Stiles. Not Scott. Heather. Stiles’ girlfriend who he’d just called entirely ordinary. Basically, he'd called her 'mediocre.' Shit. “Did she receive it?”

“She saved it.” Kira squeaked. Her wide brown eyes were apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that it was on.”

He was so screwed. There was no way that she wouldn’t tell Stiles. This was turning about to be a supremely unpleasant day. Then the alarm rang calling for them to swing into action. Feeling like he was strung out like a bow Derek hefted himself to his feet and held out a hand to help Kira and gritted out a pacifying lie. “Don’t worry about it.”

******

**Lydia’s Lab**

**Beacon Hills University**

The morning after her nightmare found Lydia back at the Beacon Hills University in her lab. Her high from her book and speaking tour at the university had been dulled by the nightmare this morning. She was reluctant to call it a vision. Parrish had no such qualms and he’d counseled her to talk with Deaton about it. Resolutely, she focused back on the workstations that were filtering through the tests on the genetic codes. Lydia was watching them all simultaneously her eyes flittering back and forth.

“Well, that looks serious.”

She turned to find Danny standing there holding a bag of takeaway salads. “You up for a break?”

Lydia's eyes flashed back to the screens and the code running. “Would you hate me if I said in a bit?”

Danny gave her a dimpled smile and shook his head. “All good, love. I’m just working in the office you want to grab a coffee later?”

Taking the salad offered Lydia placed it on the deck and then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a God.”

Danny laughed pleased. “Keep it up, love.” He handed her some cutlery and then left the laboratory. She worked solidly for another hour jotting down notes in her workbook before she was interrupted again.

“I spoke to Parrish.”

Startled, Lydia threw down her pen and turned to find Stiles watching her thoughtfully. She hated when he gave her that look. It reminded her about before … before when they were just kids learning about the supernatural.

“It was just a dream.” Lydia dismissed, reaching for the salad and cracking it open.

“Out of all of us you don’t just dream,” Stiles said entering the lab and shutting the door with a quite soft click.

“Of course, I do.” Lydia patted the stool beside her. “Everyone does.”

Stiles sat down and then twirled a little bit. Swinging the stool back and forth. “You screamed.”

“Bad dreams do that.”

Stiles ever curious grabbed her workbook while she found a fork in her desk drawer. “Lydia.” Stiles' voice was deadly serious all trace of teasing gone. “What is this?”

Looking up from the salad she frowned and realized that he was holding her notepad, thumb trailing over the paper. “My notes.”

He held up to show her and she stared dumbfounded. She’d honestly thought she’d be writing math equations and notes on the markers she’d been seeing, but that’s not what was on the page.

It was a drawing of a bell. He turned it upside down and his face went white.

“Please tell me that doesn’t look like a root spiral to you.”

Snagging the paper out of his hand she ripped it slightly in her haste. “I can’t tell....” Her voice trailed off as she placed her hand over the drawing. She tilted her head…. Hearing something….

Hearing…. That noise from her dream.

A BELL.

A RASPING DING.

“Lydia?” Stiles’ voice was drowned out by the rasping DING.

She coughed feeling like she was choking. But, it was just… She could feel it. The scream within her building.

She tried to swallow it.

If she screamed, someone could… would die.

She held her breath. Trying not to listen to the rasping DING. It vibrated through her until finally she dragged in a breath that tasted like dirt as the rasping DING grew louder and louder like a freight train.

“Lydia!”

Thwack. Stiles’ hand was on her cheek. Forcing her to come back to herself. She realized that she was almost collapsing forward and only Stiles arm around her waist supporting her had halted her fall. If he hadn’t been here, she would’ve fallen and likely cracked her head open on the bench.

“Lydia?” Stiles murmured cajoling, moving to hold her close to his chest. Trembling Lydia allowed herself to take some comfort from his protective embrace. “Shhh. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want…”

“I know.” Stiles soothed. “I know.”

There were hot tears on her cheeks. She took a deep shuddering breath and then another. “I don’t understand why now. Why now? What’s changed?” Things had been quiet. She hadn’t … Maybe it was back home after three months away.

Stiles tensed his hold at her words and then forcibly relaxed. “We’ll figure it out.” He kissed her forehead and then with another quick warm squeeze stepped back.

Lydia swallowed hard feeling a little like he’d left her adrift then she rallied.

“Can you tell me what you heard?” He asked.

“It’s…”

“Was it the bell?”

“It’s not… I don’t think it is. At least not one I’ve heard before.”  

“Everything all right?” A voice made them turn to find a worried Danny standing there. “I heard a shout.”

Lydia nodded and Stiles concurred and then walked over to shake his hand. “Hey man, Lydia told me you were back and it’s great to see you, man.”

“Can’t stay away, plus…” Danny looked down at his shoes. A shroud of grief covering him like a veil. His mother had been committed to respite care recently, but it had been too late. She’d died within a week.

Stiles nodded thoughtfully. “I heard about your mom, I’m sorry dude.”

Danny gave a distracted shrug. “It’s life, right? But, if you guys are okay?” Stiles nodded, Lydia gave him a thumbs up. “Thanks for the salad.”

“No problem,” Danny said vanishing out the laboratory door.

“Kinda missed that happy bastard,” Stiles said with a quick sharp grin.

Lydia threw the rest of the salad in the trash. She’d lost her appetite, but hadn’t wanted to hurt Danny’s feelings. “Any luck on the markings?”

“Other than what you gave me?” Stiles collapsed back down on the stool and rubbed his face. “The weird thing about them, though… when you place them together…”

“It forms the Hale sigil.” Lydia agreed.

“It’s probably nothing,” Stiles said, his tone unconvinced.

Lydia nodded agreeably dubious as well, but if Stiles wanted to pretend this wasn’t about Derek, then she’d let him have it. Although, she wanted to give into the urge to call Derek. The dream, the markings, generally being back in Beacon Hills made her worried. She didn’t want him running away again. No would be able to handle it if he did least of all Scott and Stiles.

*****

 

**M-Aths – Malia’s Store**

M-ath’s store opening was a community affair. The small athletic clothing store was full to the brim with investors, potential buyers and friends. Stiles watched Malia flit back and forth greeting everyone like a bird dancing on a live wire. She’d come such a long way from the wild child that he’d tried to tame. He could recognize that attempting to help Malia assimilate had been all about trying to atone for what happened, what he’d done as the Notisgane. His possession. Years of therapy later and he could separate the two. He’d been tricked into his possession and while he’d let in, he’d been able to not wallow in the blame game.

He’d once asked Chris Argent if he’d blamed him for Allison’s death his response had been surprising and a balm to his heart. He’d said ‘no how could you blame the victim for what the abuser did.' It had sounded like therapy talk and whether he’d actually meant it at that time, Stiles’ had needed to hear it just the same.

“Stop with the brood. Your brooding can wait.” Heather pushed a small glass of liquid in his hand. It looked like a rum and coke, but it was hard to say without a sip. “Oh, there’s Kira,” She said and swiftly departed with intent blond hair swirling in her wake. He watched in amusement as Kira saw Heather coming and hid behind a mannequin and then pretended it was intentional. Something was going on there, but he trusted Heather to tell him what it was in time.

A DING of the door swung open and Stiles sucked in a sharp breath as Derek walked into the room. Even smartly, but casually dressed in a suit pants and a soft jacket, he was the hottest man by far in the room. A small part of him was relieved to see him here, especially after Lydia’s vision.

Before he could move away from his position at the counter Lydia and Parrish followed him inside. Lydia whispered something to Derek and he frowned at her before nodding. Taking a sip and yes, it was rum and coke. He watched Derek check where the exits were and how many people were in the room. There was a distinct air of unease about him that had nothing to do with the fact it was a social event and Derek hated parties. He seemed a lot more jumpy than usual worse than when’d found him in the car park at Eichen House.

“You should talk to him,” Parrish said. Stiles shot him a sideways glance, but Parrish was watching Lydia talk with Derek. His own gaze was drawn back to them as well and they both watched Lydia drag Derek over to a rack under the pretense of looking at clothing continuing their conversation in private.

Stiles frowned at Parrish. “He’s doing okay, right? You and Lydia have him up at your place?” It was a question rather than a statement and Parrish snorted. “What?” Stiles said defensively.

“Ask him yourself and yeah, Lydia’s put him up in her old apartment.”

“Huh. Really? Stiles asked curiously. “How’s that going?”

Parrish’s eyebrows twitched. “If you’re actually asking if he’s paying rent, then you should talk to him about it.”

Which really meant Lydia was giving Derek the apartment for free. Stiles watched as Derek’s neck turned pink at whatever Lydia was whispering to him. “But, he’s okay, right?”

“Here’s a novel idea, ask him yourself.” Parrish then turned to the very attractive bartender, Nathan, and ordered two drinks. “Two Champagnes” Turning back, he kicked at Stiles shoe in that familiar way that he had. “It’s what friends do, right?”

Of course, but Stiles wasn’t sure that you could classify what Derek and he were as friends. Malia was right. They were somewhere in between exes and friends. He made his way over after grabbing another rum and coke and he knew without a doubt that he wanted to be friends again.

Reaching Derek he almost had second thoughts aware that Scott, Kira, and Lydia would be watching their interaction closely not to mention Heather. He held out the drink to Derek, who took it after a brief hesitation with a tentative grab. “Thanks.”

Once again the elastic silence stretched thin. This time, Stiles felt compelled to break it. “I always knew you’d be good at it, you know.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, confused.

Stiles continued after a long drawn out moment, distracted by the light in Derek’s eyes and not to mention that he had always enjoyed needling him by starting in mid-conversation. “Being a paramedic.”

Stiles watched a slight flush crept over Derek’s cheeks and he shrugged a little embarrassed. “It’s… It pays the bills.”

It was an opening and Stiles took it. “Must help, though staying at Lydia’s old place.”

Derek shifted a slight unease and defensiveness creeping into his stance. “Yeah, um, just till….”

Stiles cut in before he could finish that thought. “Good and it’s more than paying the bills, you know.”

“… till I can find—“

“Derek, you’re helping people. That’s….You always tried too.” Stiles turned towards him, earnest, appreciating the way the lights in the store made Derek’s eyes glint, but that blush couldn’t hide the bruises underneath his eyes. “You said I’m making a difference, well, you are too, you know. Chicago was lucky to have you and so are we.”

“Thanks,” Derek’s voice was gruff, real pride hidden underneath the tone. “Listen…” He said, then nodding, towards the back of the store. “I should check —“ He touched the small of Stiles’ back for a moment and Stiles felt it through to his core. “Thanks for the drink.”

*****

Scott watched Derek walk away from Stiles and saw the wistfulness that Stiles was unaware he was projecting. It was sweet to see that they were on the road to friendship again. Stiles needed Derek in his life. No one had quite managed to hold their own with him that way other than Lydia. If they were going to pursue this friendship they would need boundaries. With that in mind, he intercepted Derek before he reached Malia. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Derek returned eyes watchful. “How’s the arm?”

“Healing.” Scott rolled his shoulder and smiled at him. “So, you and Stiles.”

Derek’s face went guarded. “We’re just friends.”

Scott made a face at that. Stiles and Derek were not friends. Not at the moment at least. He nodded though and stepped closer not threatening, but not holding back either. “In a way we’re family you and I, right?” It was a test question.

It took a moment, but Derek slowly nodded. He hadn’t stepped backward away from him, but he wouldn’t either.

“Stiles is--” Scott began.

Derek cut him off. “Jesus, Scott. I didn’t come back for him.”

“Are you sure?” Scott had heard about what Derek had said to Kira about Heather. “Stiles needs ordinary, it’s good for him.” The after you was implied and he saw the way it landed and felt pleased that his message was getting through. It had taken months for Stiles to be Stiles after he and Derek broke up. He didn’t want to see him go through that again. No one did.

“Kira told you.”

“Heather told me.” Scott corrected.

Derek paused taking that in. “Does he know?”

“Most likely,” Scott gave him a thoughtful look, brown eyes wide and sincere. “I don’t think you meant it as an insult.”

“I didn’t,” Derek stressed.

“But.” Scott continued heedlessly. “It sounds like one. You called her ordinary.”

“She is!” Derek defended himself. “She’s not supernatural. She’s not even a Wiccan or anything weird.”

Then both men froze when a voice piped up from behind Derek.

“Did you just call me weird?” Heather asked him.

Derek closed his eyes. Scott just knew that he wished for the ground to swallow him. He would’ve too. Feeling generous, Kira had been far more relaxed now that she could work with someone and not hide her abilities all the time. Scott decided to help him out. “No, he called Kira weird.”

Heather gave them a dubious look. “Sure.”  

Scott gave Derek a side eye look he appeared to be frozen debating his options. “Yep. So…”

“Scott?” Heather said with mock seriousness, “You are a terrible liar.”

At that, Derek spun trying to catch Heather, but she’d already left. “Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t have hurt to apologize.”

Derek gave him an annoyed glare. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The sarcasm was so familiar that Scott it made his heart ache. To cover it he smirked swallowing down some more champagne. “Listen. I think that maybe I should…I mean after you moved--” He paused, after just basically threatening him Scott didn’t know how to apologize for not staying in touch the way he could have, the way he should have. He felt his shoulder throb and his hand twitched.

Derek in the meantime appeared to understand what he wasn’t saying and shrugged. Careful. His voice was devoid of any emotion. “Doesn’t matter.”

Scott felt the lie and tried to hide his wince. It had mattered and now the best he could do was try and be a better friend to both of them. “How’s the job going? Kira said you’re settling in.”

****

Over exploring the new lots of work out pants that Malia had designed Lydia watched Heather and Derek’s interaction. She turned to Kira. “What’s that about?”

Kira in the midst of crouching down to check out new pumps threw her head back bumping into the low hanging railing. “What… OH.”

Lydia exchanged a look with Malia, who had approached holding a champagne glass for both of them. “Oh,” There was a story there.

“Um, so.” Kira stood taking the glass. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Probably nothing.” Lydia clinked glasses with Malia and frowned at her. “Which means it’s something.”

“Maybe… I um… I accidentally recorded Derek calling her ‘ordinary’ and sent it to her.” Kira said like a bullet then stared at them waiting for their reactions. She waved her hand, champagne sloshed over the edge of the glass. “I know… it’s all… kind of--”

“Well, he’s not lying.” Malia interrupted. “She is kind of nothing.”

Kira gulped hard and pointed behind them. Lydia and Malia cringed.

“Well, hello to you too.” Heather greeted with a false smile. “Lovely store opening you have here.”

Malia and Lydia turned as one to find Heather poised as always, her eyes dark.

“Thank you for coming.” Malia greeted in return. Unrepentant. It was nice Lydia thought not for the first time how Malia was never apologist in nature when they had nothing to really apologize for. Heather probably had other views on the matter. It did sound like an insult and Lydia had been the Queen of throwing thinly veiled shade all her life. She was more direct about it now when situations called for it. This situation, she eyed Derek over Heather’s shoulder, would likely call for it. Derek looked mildly embarrassed which probably meant he’d been humiliated.

Heather hair slicked back into a fine ponytail smiled falsely. “Stiles and I are happy to attend such an _ordinary_ event.”

Lydia squinted at her, pursing her lips. Yes. She was going to have to be direct. How delightful. She slid forward matching Heather’s gaze with an alluring smile. “Sweetheart, you know I like you. You’re a lovely girl.”

“Thank you,” Heather said cautiously.

“You’re welcome.” She clinked her glass with Heather’s. It chimed like a bell. She winced. “But, step between Derek and his friends and I’ll end you. Step between Stiles and his friends the same thing will happen. You don’t want to throw down with me, with us.”

“Lydia.” Kira rebuked while Heather blinked processing the very blatant threat.

“Stiles –“ Heather began.

“Is our friend.” Malia finished for her. “And you really are extraordinarly ordinary. It’s why we like you. It’s why you’re one of us.”

Lydia nodded. “Exactly.”

Kira touched Heather’s arm after shooting another rebuking look at Lydia. “Stiles is with you, right now.” She froze, “no I mean, he’s in love with you, okay. You live together, it’s like your practically married.”

“Because I’m ordinary.” Heather finished not really appeased turning to find Stiles watching Derek, again.

Lydia sighed, bringing Heather’s attention back to her. “Because you’re you, it’s not because you’re anything other than that.”

Having no other recourse, Heather took the backhanded compliment and threat with a nod. “I like what you’ve done with the place, M. It really sparkles.”

All three women watched Heather walk back over to Stiles in silence then Malia spoke. “So, Lydia you talked to the Sherriff about Peter?”

Lydia shrugged. “Not that it did much good. Your father is being released.”

“God help us all,” Kira muttered quietly.

Lydia concurred and then moved to find Parrish. She needed some air. The room was beginning to sound like a church. Each ring of a glass clanging in her ears.

*****

“Well, glad to hear the job’s going smoothly,” Scott nodded towards the bartender, “Speaking of, it might be good for you too…”

Derek’s abrupt blush was a thing of beauty. “Please don’t set me up with the bartender.”

Scott patted his arm feeling on surer footing now and gave the bartender a once over. “He seems pretty okay. Some might say ordinary.”

“Scott,” Derek said the rebuke hard in his voice. “No.”

“Come on.” Scott pushed Derek over to the bar and shot Malia and apologetic look, Derek needed not to be working tonight. He looked like he’d only been working and having no fun for too long. “Nathan,” he said reading the bartender’s name tag, “This is Derek. Derek, Nathan.” Scott moved away, leaving them to it. Scott reached Stiles, who was looking at him with mutinous eyes. “I really thought you decided to stop matchmaking people after the Honey Bee incident.”

Scott held up his hands. “Oh come on,” he slapped him on the arm. “He needs to get laid.” He turned and found Lydia watching him with an amused, but not impressed expression. “You agree?”

Lydia’s gaze was guarded and thoughtful. “It might help.”

Parrish pulled her close whispering softly in her ear. “It’s not their business.”

Which made Scott curious. “What’s not our business?”

Stiles glanced at the couple and Scott alert to anything that could be a mystery. “Someone explain that, please.”

Parrish and Lydia exchanged a quick look and then Parrish gave a nod. It was up to Lydia apparently.

“Lydia?” Scot asked and she turned to them both leaning into Parrish.

“Derek’s not sleeping well, is all,” She said finally. Her eyes met Stiles and she frowned at him. Something passing between them that Scott couldn’t read. Something they weren’t sharing with him. “He wouldn’t say anything else, but I don’t think he’s slept in 48 hours. Well, not well at any rate.”

“Then he really needs to get laid.” Scott whistled. As one they all turned to glare at him. “Trust me. It helps.”

“Got some practice, do ya, Scotty.” Stiles drawled his voice very flat.

Scott rolled his eyes and nodded at the bar. “Well, I think they’re hitting it off at any rate.” Watching as Stiles looked over his shoulder and frowned.

*****

Derek turned to Nathan and sighed deeply. “I’m really sorry.”

Nathan was strong and lanky with a buzzcut and with soulful brown eyes. He was attractive and definitely his type. Nathan’s smirk was appreciative and knowing as he gave him the once over. “Don’t be, I’m not.”

Derek laughed despite himself. “Don’t hedge your bets yet.”

“Oh, trust me.” Nathan replied pouring a drink for Malia and then turning back to him. “No one would hedge their bets with you.”

It was corny. It was definitely a line. It was exactly what he needed to hear. Derek laughed again leaning closer. “Do you say that to everybody?”

“Only the ones I’ll see in the morning.”

Derek laughed. It was another line and damn if it was reeling him in. Nathan was attractive. Single and god he needed a distraction. He couldn’t resist. “When do you get off?”

Nathan grin was lightening then froze as he looked over his shoulder. “Deputy.” Derek looked over his shoulder expecting to find Parrish and saw Stiles standing there, uncomfortable. His eyes were dark with what could've been jealousy. Stiles glanced at Derek and then smiled thinly at Nathan.

“Hey Nate, can I get three champagnes?”

“Sure.” Nathan responded. “How’s Liam doing?”

“Still backpacking through Europe with Hayden, but if you’re asking about Mason…”

Nathan paused. “I wasn’t.”

Stiles smirked that way he had when he knew the other person was lying. “Sure, I bet. He’s in London last I heard.”

“Good.” Nathan nodded. “That’s good.”

“Isn’t it though, Nate. Can I get three champagnes?” Stiles repeated.

Derek watched Nathan turn to fulfill the order. He moved away and Stiles leaned closer to Derek, who could feel the heat of him like coming in from the cold. Nathan quickly fulfilled the order then left to go get more champagne.

“You need a ride home?” Stiles nodded towards the doorway where Lydia and Parrish were making the move to leave, Parrish helping Lydia put on her coat. “Cause’ your ride’s leaving.”

It was considerate of Stiles to offer, but the last thing Derek wanted was to be locked in a car with Heather and Stiles. Besides… his eyes traveling back to where Nathan was bent over trying to find champagne in the boxes. “Actually I think I might hang a bit longer.”

“You might hang.” Stiles' voice was delightedly amused, “You might hang?” But then he followed his gaze and his smile fell and he leaned in just a bit more a hair’s breath away from his ear, voice soft and intent. “He’s not good enough for you.”

Derek stilled. Not sure he’d heard that correctly. There was no way Stiles would. He drummed a hand against his chin then turned to Stiles and raised his eyebrows.

Before either of them could say another word Nathan had already returned with the drinks. Derek gave Nathan a quick reassuring smile. “We’ll be right back.” Grabbing Stiles elbow firmly he led him to the store room – where it was hopefully soundproof.

He closed the door with a gentle thud, the sound of the party outside was immediately silenced. Malia had made it supernatural proof. He rested his hand against the cool door for a moment and then turned to find Stiles watching him with cool calucalting eyes. “Well?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Are you fucking kidding?! What the hell, Stiles!” Stiles was defiant and he raised his chin, but otherwise remained silent. His gaze searching his. Derek took a long shuddering breath and then stepped closer. “You don’t get to say things like that to me, remember?” He said, echocing the words that Stiles had said to him at the Emergency room. “Not anymore.”

Stiles met his gaze unrepentant. They were eye to eye and Derek could see the flecks of gold in his iris.

“It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to your girlfriend.”

“You’re not sleeping,” Stiles said instead catching his arm when Derek tried to move back out to the party.

A statement. Not a question.

Lydia had talked. She was worried. It made steady ground feel rocky. Like he was walking on broken glass. A feeling that hadn’t actually left since that morning. Derek tried to push him away. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“You’re not sleeping,” Stiles said again not taking the bait. He maintained his grip, forestalling him. Derek reeled backward. Stiles steadied him, hands catching him about the waist. It was intimate. Stiles’ grip falling to bracket his waist in the way it always had when they had been together. Stiles didn’t seem to realize how intimate it was he was so focused on him like he was a puzzle to be unraveled.

He tried to avoid Stiles’ gaze, watching as Stiles hands tightened in the fabric of his shirt, fabric rippling in his hold. He could feel the heat of it and he sucked in a tight shallow breath.

“Derek?” Stiles’ ducked a little trying to catch his eye. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“It’s … just being here,” Derek said finally forcing the lie out around the stone that was sitting on his chest. “New bed and all.”

Disbelief washed over Stiles' face. “Right.” He drew out the word. “Sure it is.”

“Stiles --“ Derek tried to not let the weariness show. He couldn’t find the words to explain the unmitigated horror he’d felt when he’d awoken half-naked on his sister’s last resting place. Something of what he’d been feeling must’ve shown in his expression because Stiles stepped impossibly closer seeking to comfort. His hands flexing again about his waist. Derek wasn’t even sure that Stiles was aware that he was doing it. It was so familiar and his heart skipped a beat.

“You know you don’t need to pretend with me,” Stiles said, reassuring. “You never did, okay.”

Feeling cornered, Derek backed away.

Stiles' hands fell away from his waist, but still reaching out towards him. He frowned worriedly. “Derek—“

Derek felt like his heart was in his throat. He swallowed hard and repeated it again because it needed to be said, he needed to remind both of them that this wasn’t what they were anymore. “Stiles, you can’t…. This isn’t fair to me and it isn’t fair to Heather.” He pushed out of the store room without a backward glance the door thudding closed behind him.

*****


	5. Three Years Ago...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's flashback time in Beacon Hills as we travel back to three years earlier and we learn how and why Derek and Stiles broke up, a misunderstanding leads to broken hearts everywhere. Also, we revisit Kira's role in Scott's recent accident as we go back to four weeks earlier.

 

Chapter Five

"Three Years Ago"

 

**Three Years Ago:**

 

**Plaza Hotel**

**Chicago**

 

Stiles had conked out as soon as he and Derek had checked into the hotel room in Chicago. He'd barely stripped off his shirt and sweater, and hadn't even bothered to strip off his jeans before he'd crawled into the King Size bed. It was a nice weekend break from the training of the Academy which had been much harder than anticipated. Derek had muttered something about catching up with some EMT contacts and disappeared. He stayed awake long enough to pull the ring box out of his pocket and place it on the side table. The feeling of that box giving him a thrill. It was a tangible reminder of his love for Derek. He stared at it until exhausted he fell asleep before he could hide it again.

 

Hours later, Stiles woke slowly and he rolled over to find Derek seated in the armchair across from the bed. He smiled. “Hey.”

 

Derek roused from where he was reading on his iPad. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at Stiles. “Hey.” He placed his iPad back on the side table.

 

Stiles pushed himself to a seated position legs still sprawled out in front of him on the crumbled sheets. “When did you get back?”

 

Derek shrugged crawling up the bed towards Stiles. He placed a slow kiss on his lips. “Not sure, maybe a few hours ago.”

 

“You could’ve woken me,” Stiles said voice husky with sleep, pulling away from the kiss. "You look overdressed, babe." And he was. He was dressed in smart slacks and a white dress shirt and tie. Stiles ran his hands down Derek's chest and rucking up and under his shirt. "Your Chicago friends are stuffy."

  
"And you're hardly dressed at all." Derek smirked and then his gaze darkened. He nodded towards the side table a hesitancy to his tone. “Stiles. What is that?”

 

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. The ring box. He had fallen asleep before he could hide it. “Um. Well.”

 

Derek sat back on his knees, shirt hang loose. His gaze darting between the box and Stiles. Stiles reached for it swiping it off the side table. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to do this… but.” He grabbed one of Derek’s hand where he sat flabbergasted mouth dropping open. “I love you. Honest to god all in love you and when I think of the future you’re it. This is it for me.”

 

Derek bit his lip. His grip tightened on Stiles' hand. “Hey. Wait. Stiles—“

 

Stiles pulled Derek’s hand up and kissed the back of it. “I know it seems fast and it was so amazing being here with you. Like you have no idea, dude. Academy is kicking my ass and, I just, … I was walking past this store and I saw the ring and I knew man. I just knew that I can get through it, the Academy, being a cop, the nightmares, all of it because of you.”

 

Derek shook his head. Hesitant. “Just wait a second. This isn’t a simple—“

 

“I know it is fast.” Stiles cut in. “I know, okay? But, babe, we can figure it all when I finish school when we’re back in Beacon. Right?”

 

Derek paused. His face was twisted with something that made Stiles frown.

 

“Babe?”

 

“Beacon’s home for you. You don’t think of ever moving somewhere else?”

 

“Why would I?” Stiles questioned a pull of ice beginning to settle in his stomach. “What are you--”

 

“It’s just that, for me, it’s full of a lot of stuff.”

 

Pain. That’s what’s Derek was referring too. The most recent fire had cracked something open in Derek that they’d all thought healed. Stiles slid his hands forward to bracket Derek’s hips reassuringly. “God. Of course, I know that. But, there are good memories too, you know? Babe, you don’t think it’s full of pain for me? With my Mom, Allison, not to mention that fuckin' drama with Scott and Theo …”

 

“I’ve been offered a job here in Chicago.” He blurted out. His eyes were wide and beseeching. "That's where I was... I was--"

 

“Then I’ll move here,” Stiles said without hesitation.

 

Derek sighed deeply, both of his hands come to rest on his forearms. “No. It’s… Your father is dying to work with you." He smiled thinly, "To make it official and I would never dream of standing in that way and you’ve been dreaming of working at the BPD forever, don’t tell me you haven’t.”

 

He couldn’t lie. Because it was true. Derek had been party to many a discussion between him and his Dad about how’d they handle working together officially now that he was on track to being an officer. Stiles watched as Derek licked dry lips and take a quick sharp breath.

 

“There's no way I'm going to stand in the way of that.”

 

“You can’t outrun your ghosts in Chicago.” Stiles shot back.

 

Derek closed his eyes. “I’m not trying to 'outrun' them.”

 

Yes, he was. Stiles could see it and he understood it. The way he hunched over when he walked in Beacon Hills at the moment hurt to see. He didn't get it, why Derek was fighting him on this? He’d follow him anywhere. “Lydia married Parrish six months ago.” Stiles released his hold of Derek and ran a hand through his hair sitting back. “Same age difference.”

 

“And she’s living with Scott and Kira right now!” Derek exclaimed. “Give me one year.”

 

“Derek!” Stiles shot back. “Are you kidding me, right now?” He rolled off the bed in frustration and turned towards him. “I’ve seen you maybe three times in the past few months. You’re working full time and if you move to Chicago, we’ll just grow further apart. It’s already like we living in different states.”

 

A flicker of overwhelming hurt fluttered across Derek’s face. “You don’t trust that we’ll be together a year from now? You can’t believe that we love each other enough?”

 

Stiles stared at him flabbergasted. “Why are we fighting about this? If you want to say 'no' to me, just say it. Just... just fucking say it.”

 

Derek jerked like he’d hit him and then reached for him, trying to grab his hand. Stiles stepped back out of reach.

 

“No! I’m not saying no. I’m not. I’m just saying not yet.” Derek hastily moved forward again and then reached for him again this time successfully grabbing his hand. “I want us to be together. I do. I’m just—“

 

“Just not enough,” Stiles said feeling like his world had fallen away. His heart pounded and he sucked in a sharp painful breath. Holy Fuck. Derek was actually saying no. He hadn’t even considered this being an actual possibility when he found that ring.

 

“No. that’s not what—“ Derek’s eyes widened shining with unshed tears that refused to fall.

 

Stiles slid backward until he was pressed against the window and watched Derek’s hand drop down clenching into tight fists.

 

“Stop. Stiles. Stop. Let’s just… Can we…just”

 

“We can’t 'just.'” Stiles’ couldn’t keep the acid from his tone. He turned away from him and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. “We can’t…just... oh, Fucking hell.”

 

“Stiles –“

 

“Can you just go?” Stiles interrupted. “Please just go.” He hated himself for saying it knowing how Derek would take it, but he pushed the words out through tightening throat. Except, Derek had just said no and he couldn’t deal with it right now. He’d put his heart on the line and he’d been burned. "Please, can you just get the fuck out."

 

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was shards of glass. “No--”

 

The laugh that erupted out of Stiles was bitter and broken. “Right. Thanks. I got the message.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes against the tears. He pressed his trembling palms to the glass and took a deep breath. Fuck. What the hell had just happened? There was a long silence behind him at his words. Then, finally Derek let out a heavy broken sigh and rose from where he was probably still seated on the bed as it creaked underneath him. Stiles refused to turn around, watching the shadows in the window as Derek collected his things and left the room. He couldn't watch Derek leave. He couldn't stand to look at him and Stiles held it together just long enough to allow the door to close before he broke down.

 

*****

 

**Four Weeks Ago:**

 

**Deaton’s Vet Clinic**

**Beacon Hills**

 

Kira’s heart pounded frantically and tears fell down her cheeks. “Deaton!” She cried.

Deaton ignored her focused on helping Scott and tending to the gash that had almost taken his arm off. "Do something!"

 

It had been a routine supernatural call. Kira and Scott had visited the preserve and had been confronted by a wild fae-like creature. When it had gone after Kira taking a liking to her hair, Scott had stepped between her and the blade. The creature had ensnared her freezing her to the spot. Covered in blood she called Stiles panicked when she realized that Scott wasn’t healing. His arm wasn’t reconnecting to his body the way it should.

 

Stiles grabbed Kira around the waist halting her forward movement. “Stop. Let Dr. D. do his thing.” He pulled her from the room.

 

She turned in Stiles' arm and stared up at him. His clothing was now covered in Scott’s blood as well. “What if he can’t?”

 

“It’s Scott,” Stiles said releasing her and stepping back. “He’ll be fine.”

 

Kira shook her head swiping her hair away with a bloody hand. It left a trail of red in its wake. “You weren’t there… You didn’t see--”

 

Stiles crossed his arm and ducked his head and gave her a serious look. “Okay. So tell me.”

 

So she did. She told him how it had seemed so simple. The investigation. Nothing they hadn’t done before. How Scott had screamed in agony as the blade fell. But, if he hadn’t stepped in front of her pushing backward out of the way she’d be dead. The blade had been aimed at her neck. This was her fault.

“Oh my god… Stiles, this is my fault.” She sobbed. “It wanted me.”

 

Her legs gave out and Stiles caught her as she collapsed down to the ground weeping bitter guilty tears. He had let her cry holding her in a fiercely reassuring embrace. She cried until she couldn’t anymore and then Deaton had appeared and they could tell just by looking at him that the news wasn’t good.

 

“Doc?” Stiles breathed out.

 

“Stiles.” Deaton looked tired and then glanced at Kira “Do you want to see him?”

 

She used her sweater to wipe her face. “Is he okay?”

 

Deaton pursed his lips. “He’s recovering.”

 

Stiles rose helping Kira to her feet, he kept an arm around her when she swayed. “What does that mean?”

 

“I’m sorry, but with this … it’s going to take some time. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have survived it.”

 

Kira gasped and Stiles’ arm tightened around her waist. She listened dully as Deaton explained the procedure and what happened. She clung to the news that Scott would heal. At least that was something. But it was the news that Deaton wasn’t sure if full use would be ever regained in his arm that made her start sobbing again clutching onto Stiles like he was a lifeline. This wasn't supposed to happen to them. She could feel Stiles trembling as his arms tightened around her trying to keep her upright and standing. "Stiles--"

 

"We'll get through this... shhh" Stiles whispered into her hair comfortingly, "we always do, okay, this is nothing."

 

Kira wasn't so sure in all the time they'd been together and no matter how times Scott had been hurt, nearly died, Deaton had never been worried about this kind of ongoing damage.

When Scott finally began to wake, Kira was too guilt-stricken and heartbroken to break the news. She’d watched gnawing at her nail as Stiles broke the news to Scott about potential long-term damage.

 

He hadn’t taken it well. For so long he had never had to deal with healing like a human and now essentially he was again and it was a wake-up call for them all.

 

*****

 

**Three Years Ago:**

**Police Academy - Stiles Dorm Room.**

 

Stiles didn’t know what he was doing. Deep in thought he paced the short length of the dorm room. Ever since Chicago he’d felt adrift. The training for the police force was brutal and with his Dad being in the service and his natural propensity to sarcasm had made the instructors hate him on sight. Stiles knew that he just had to last a few more weeks and then it was done. He was out. He could go back to what he really loved to do, which was investigating stuff.

 

There was just one problem.

 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a cop anymore. He hadn’t told anyone. He had dared to voice the fear and give it weight.

 

His phone vibrated and then shrilled loudly where it lay on the bed. He paused when he saw it was Derek. He was calling him, again. Feeling like a dick he pushed it to voicemail, again. He still couldn’t handle talking to him right now. He was so angry at him… but he missed him. Fuck. He missed his boyfriend like he couldn’t breathe. He bit his lip gently a thought suddenly occurring to him. Were they even boyfriends anymore? Stiles honestly didn’t know what they were. He hissed in a sharp breath between his teeth as he realized again not for the first time that he’d be lost without Derek. Adrift. His phone rang again. This time, he answered. “Lydia?”

 

Her sharp throaty voice greeted him. “Stop being an asshole.”

 

“Oh. My. God.” Stiles sat down on the dorm room bed and running a hand through his hair.

“I'm an…. What… What you even talking about?”

 

“You know, Stiles. How can you not fucking know?”

 

“Are you with him now?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

 

“Yes. Well, not anymore, he left.” Lydia breathed out softly. “What are you doing, huh?”

 

Stiles sat back down. “I don’t know what I’m doing Lyds. I fucking hate it here and I just –“

 

“Then call him, dumbass. Make amends. But I gotta ask you, Stiles. Do you love him? Do you really? Because what—“

 

He did. Of course, he did. They’d become Stiles and Derek and now he didn’t know how to be just Stiles anymore. “You don’t understand without him… I just can’t function. But, what am I supposed to do? You know what he said...”

 

Stiles picked up the ring case from its hiding spot in his gym bag and rubbed it with his thumb. "He said--"

 

“Okay,” Lydia cut in firmly. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to suck it up and become the best damn cop that you can be and you’re going to find Derek and see if you’re meant to be.”

 

That caught his attention. “What do you mean, find him?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line and then Lydia sighed. “He’s moving, honey. Remember... he got that job in Chicago.”

 

It had been one thing for Derek say no to him, but he didn’t know what he was going to do knowing that when he finished at the Academy Derek wouldn't be there. He wouldn't be in Beacon Hills. The idea that Derek would still be there, still be at home had been one of the things getting him through despite everything.

 

“Oh. The word hissed out of him brokenly. He suddenly felt like he was back in that hotel room with Derek turning everything upside down. "Oh... that's..."

 

“Stiles!” Lydia snapped, “He thought it was better for you if he wasn’t around.”

 

God. Damn. Him. “I hate him.” Stiles breathed out rubbing away the hot tears that were sliding down his face.

 

“No, you don’t.” Lydia counted carefully. “I wish you did, honey. It might be hurt less if you did.”

 

“Fuck you.” Stiles snapped the phone closed. So, that’s why Derek had been trying to call him. It hadn’t been about the botched proposal at all. It had been about the fact that he was actually moving fucking cities. For some reason, it hadn’t really hit him before, but now he knew, he really knew.

 

Derek didn’t want him anymore.

 

It was over.

 

Angrily he threw the ring box in the bin and then thinking better of it, fished it out. He opened the box he stared at the ring that glinted in the filter light. He snapped the box closed with a thud. "Shit."

 

He wiped away a stray tear and then took a deep breath. He pushed the ring box to the bottom of his gym bag and then zipped it up. Wiped at his face again and then walked out of the room to head out to the study hall.

 

 

****

 

**Four Weeks Ago:**

**Scott and Kira’s Apartment – 4A**

**Beacon Hills**

 

Kira hadn’t slept in four days. Since the accident, she'd been caring for Scott non-stop. She’d taken a leave of absence from work and was acting as a nurse with Melissa dropping by at irregular intervals to check on Scott... check on her. She was thankful for her training as an EMT because it made the nursing a lot easier. Still, she was so tired and so damn worried. Scott was angry and so impatient with everything and he refused to talk to them about it. He must blame her, she thought, it had been her fault that this happened in the first place.

 

She closed her eyes which were gritty with tiredness. She wavered for a moment as she nearly fell asleep where she was standing. She caught herself on the bench and refocused on the saucepan in front of her. She was making chicken soup and was watching the darkened broth boil in the pot trying to decide if she should add more herbs when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped, nearly knocking the saucepan off the stove top.

She turned and found Parrish. “How’s he doing?”

 

She shrugged tiredly. “He’s still not talking, " she left the 'to me' unsaid, but Parrish nodded like he understood, "but better I guess?” She nodded towards the bedroom. “Stiles with him?”

 

Parrish nodded while steering her towards the kitchen stool. “Take a seat, I got this.”

 

She rubbed her face tiredly. “Jordan, do you think it was my fault?”

 

Parrish, who had been moving stopped and came back crouching down next to her. Resting her head on her forearms, she met his gaze. "Cause--"

 

“No.” Parrish interrupted, his tone, firm, formal and kind. “He was protecting you. If he hadn’t you’d be dead and this whole thing would be worse. It's not your fault.”

 

She knew intellectually, but it was hard to accept when her husband refused to talk to her. She looked away from Parrish’s sympathetic gaze and thumbed at her sweater. “Um, so... how are you?”

 

Parrish stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. She froze limbs all akimbo. “Um. What are you doing?” She and Parrish never hugged. Never. They didn't have that kind of friendship.

 

“It wasn’t your fault okay,” Parrish repeated determinedly. "And I'm gonna keep saying that until you believe me, believe Stiles."

 

She could feel herself giving into the hug and sighed. “Yeah. Okay.” It would take a while before she actually believed it. Until Scott told her he forgave her, then she’d be okay. Then she could finally sleep.

 

Parrish gave her another firm hug and stepped away to switch off the soup. “And in answer to your question. Fine.”

 

“Liar,” Kira said. “You miss her don’t you?”

 

Parrish blinked and then smiled. “Of course, but she’s almost finished the book tour so…”

 

“Oh," She said in sudden realization, "You mean she’s in Chicago?”

 

There was a minute pause as Parrish nodded, his eyes flickering to her and then away again.

 

“She seeing Derek?” Kira asked curiously.

 

Parrish shrugged. “Of course.” He found some plastic containers and began to move the broth into freezable portions. “They’re friends.” He turned.

 

The comment burned. “Right, of course.”

 

“Not that you’re not…” Parrish hastily said and then after a moment gave up and nodded. “Yes, they’re catching up.”

 

“Great,” Kira muttered, twisting her hands in her jumper. “Perfect. Well, tell her to tell Derek that I said hi or something. ”

 

"Sure, yeah, of course." Parrish nodded.

 

"How's he handling the cold?"

 

"He hates it." Parrish shrugged, "But, I guess --" He shook his head clearly not willing to share whatever it was that he was thinking. "He's doing okay."

 

"Tell him to visit then or come home," Kira said, unable to keep some of her snideness out of her tone.

 

"Sure," Parrish answered, not rising to the bait as he began to ladle the soup into the containers. "I'll tell him."

 

She rubbed at her eyes again. It stung in that way it always would that Derek had become only an occasional email friend. They hadn’t seen one another for a long time. Not since Stiles’ graduation and even then they hadn’t spoken and even now she wasn’t entirely sure that Derek had seen her.

 

There was a thud on the door frame and then Stiles asked, "Tell who?" They both turned to find Stiles still dressed in his deputy gear resting a hand on the frame.

 

Parrish and Kira exchanged a look, then Parrish shrugged. "Nothing, how is he?"  

 

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Kira, a gentle smile on his face. “He’s asking for you.”

 

She had left the room before he’d finished speaking.

 

*****

 

**Three Years Ago:**

**Convention Hall**

**Beacon Hills County**

 

Turning up to the graduation had been a mistake Derek realized as he saw the Stilinksi and McCall’s mingling post ceremony. Stiles had sent him an invitation and he thought it was a step towards reconciliation. Getting time off work had been a pain, but he had managed it. The flight had been delayed back to Beacon, but he’d made it in time to see Stiles graduate. He’d been so proud of Stiles seeing him cross that stage.

 

They hadn’t spoken.

 

Not since the hotel room in Chicago. He tried repeatedly to talk to him, but Stiles had refused all calls after telling him to get out. He tried through Lydia, through Scott and even through Malia to get Stiles to call him. But, they’d all turned him away – telling him that Stiles would call him when he was ready. Their deflections had hurt more than he’d expected. He knew they cared for him and Stiles, but it definitely felt like they were cutting him out. That they were choosing sides. With no other option, he decided to give him space, that they were telling him Stiles' needed.

 

Watching Scott and Stiles laugh and share a joke, he frowned. It was almost like when he’d first returned to Beacon after Laura went missing when he was an outsider of necessity and now he was being ostracized by their choice. It was a good thing that he’d gotten the job in Chicago. When he told Lydia and Parrish about the job he had framed the argument around that it was better for everyone if he just wasn’t around when Stiles returned, but he knew the real reason. Beacon Hills was a hell that he couldn’t survive right now. Scott had been so hurt when he'd found out about what had happened, and despite what Lydia said, he knew that she was upset with him as well. Malia had been there and her brutal honesty that he'd fucked up was refreshing, but something he couldn't handle.

 

When he received the email invitation. It had been the first contact he’d had with Stiles and it had been indirect at best, just a forward of an invitation to attend his police graduation. It had sparked some hope that they could survive this colossal misunderstanding after all. He wanted to marry Stiles. He did. He just wasn’t sure if he’d been ready right now and he’d failed to explain it to him fast enough.

 

Heart pounding with the anticipation he’d sent back a quick response and hadn’t received anything in return other than.

 

'See you then.'

 

In hindsight, he wasn't sure if Stiles had written the message.

 

He stepped forward worn work boots squeaking on the marbled foyer floor and then paused as a lovely blond girl approached the celebrating family group. He saw with a sinking heart as this girl, this woman, hugged and kissed Stiles’ on the cheek. Familiar. Intimate.

 

Like a girlfriend.

 

No wonder why no one had wanted to speak with him. They hadn’t wanted him to know. It was plain to see now that Stiles had moved on with her, the blond girl. It was obvious in her manner, in Stiles', in the way she touched him. Possessive.

 

He didn’t know why it hurt so much like a fresh new wound. The hope that he had that they could reconnect.... that Stiles would listen this time faded like a whisper of a dream. An idea forever out of reach and always in the past. In some way, it shouldn’t have surprised him that Stiles had moved on so quickly. Stiles was more confident now. He knew his worth.

Derek had just really thought that maybe … maybe they could fix things. That he could somehow make amends and that Stiles would give him time … wait for him allow him to explain what he’d been trying to say in that god forsaken hotel room. He realized now that had been another foolhardy thought.

 

He saw Scott lift his head scenting the air and he moved swiftly into the men’s bathroom and sat on a stall.

 

 

Hopefully, Scott wouldn’t be able to detect him, that the disinfectant of the bathroom would be able to hide him enough. This was a new low he realized with a disgusted sigh at himself. Hiding in the store of the men’s bathroom hoping that his friends wouldn’t find him. That Stiles wouldn't. He realized with surprise that his eyes were wet. He scrubbed at them and took a deep breath and mentally tried to focus on his next steps. Attempting to reassemble his shattered equilibrium. He should go out there and face them. Be the bigger person. Congratulate Stiles and the new girl. The very thought made his stomach roll.

 

He breathed in. ‘Focus on the next steps.’ Close out the accounts in Beacon. Make sure that mail was forwarded. Touch base with Parrish let him know what was happening and then just … he swallowed hard. Focus. He thought desperately. Focus on just breathing. He glanced around and saw the window and then in absolute new low used his supernatural strength to crank it open and climb out. Within fifteen minutes, he was in the next taxi to the airport.

 

****

 

Outside in the foyer, Stiles looked around feeling a bone deep disappointment that Derek was a no show. Stiles' tugged his phone out of his back pocket to double check for a message and found none. Derek wasn't here. Despite himself, he kept hunting through the crowds of families for that dark shot of hair and found it wanting. He should never have sent him the invitation.

 

A cold soft hand trailed down his arm and he turned and found Heather. She was a blonde pixie cut of a girl. Her eyes crinkled at him. Stiles had been rooming with her brother for the past three months and had gotten to know her a little. Her delight for him made her smile dance. “Good to see you, Stiles.” She gave him a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. She paused looking around curious. “No partner?”

 

Stiles exchanged a look with Scott ignoring the way Kira was staring off into the distance a frown on her face and shrugged. “Yeah. No. Single and ready to mingle.”

 

Heather’s smile lit up her face. “Then you want to come to my brother’s party?”

 

“Sure.”

 

****

 

**Derek’s Apartment**

**Chicago**

 

Back in Chicago Derek was walking through the door to his new apartment when his cell rang. The apartment was modest and sparsely furnished. Entry level for the area. He’d only been here a few weeks and hadn’t met his neighbors. But, the neighborhood was modest and in the process of being gentrified. It was all he could afford on his current salary and barely there savings. Dumping his overnight bag on the floor. He answered it, not looking at the number. “Hello?”

 

“Derek?!”

 

Derek frowned. “Scott? You--”

 

“Yeah. It’s me. Where do you get off, huh?” Scott spat out vitriol in his tone.

 

“Can we talk later—“

 

“No. No, we can’t talk later. He invited you and you didn’t show. He loves… no, wait a second. He loved you.”

 

“Scott—“

 

“I don’t want to hear it. We were there for you. We were all there for you. But, I don’t understand Derek. This is…” There was a deep shuddering sigh. It sounded like Scott was on the verge of tears.

 

“Scott—“ Derek tried again.

 

“Stop. Listen. I think it’s best if you just don’t call for a while okay?”

 

Derek’s heart stuttered. He sat down on the sofa, legs giving way. “Just—“

 

“Give him some time. Fuck Derek. We trusted you. I can’t believe that after everything, you would do this to us ... to him.” Scott fumed. “The least you could’ve done was say that you weren’t coming.”

 

Derek rubbed his face. He didn’t know how to say that he’d already been there and seen Stiles graduate. His voice refused to work.

 

“Nothing to say,” Scott said after a moment. “God. Why do we even try? You’re still the same selfish bastard as always. Just don’t call. Okay? You understand. It’ll just make it harder and ‘sides you’ve done enough damage for a lifetime.”

 

Derek swallowed hard. Scott was shutting him out. Officially shutting him out from them all. Devastated, he had no idea what to say to that. The phone dropped down away from his ear hanging limply in his hand. He gazed about his new apartment and for the first time realized that he would never go back to Beacon Hills. He would never be with any of them again.

 

He had never felt like an Omega until now.

 

“Scott? Who are you – Is that Derek?” Lydia’s voice rang out of the phone. “Derek?.... Derek?!...What did you say to him? Scott...”

 

Derek hung up before he could hear any more of the false platitudes that might fall from Lydia’s lips. She would take Stiles’ side in this. They all would. He knew that now.

 

For the first time since he’d lost Laura, he felt truly alone and God what he wouldn’t give to have a hug from his father again. To be wrapped in that warm embrace. He could only thank the small mercies that he wasn’t due back at work for another three days.

 

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift and woke up eight hours later to thump as Lydia Martin fell through his still open door. She landed sprawled on the floor and looked at him, furious. “Can you not answer your phone!?”

 

Parrish followed her in and helped Lydia to her feet.

 

Derek stared at them like they were apparitions sure that his mind was playing tricks on him.

 

Lydia knelt down beside him and tentatively touched his cheek. Her fingers like fire and he winced. “Hey.” She then looked at Parrish, who had knelt down beside them. “He’s skin's like ice.”

 

Parrish glanced around them quickly. “Window’s open.”

 

Derek blinked hard and then again. Trying to work out if they were really in Chicago. Sluggishly, he reached and covered Lydia’s hand surprised by its warmth. “You‘re here.” He couldn’t keep the wonder and doubt from his voice.

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course, we are. You dumb ass.” She leaned forward, pulling him into a warm hug. He sunk into it. “Of course, we are….”

 

Parrish closed the window bolting it closed and turned. “When you didn’t answer your phone we hopped on the first plane.”

 

“But…’ Derek shook his head and frowned in honest surprise. “Stiles… He’s your friend.”

 

Lydia slapped him softly on the cheek. “And you’re not?” She turned to Parrish and something complicated passed between them.

 

Parrish pushed himself away from the window. “He’s an idiot.”

 

“Yes. He is.” Lydia helped Derek sit up. “Come on. Let’s get food.”

 

“I didn’t say no,” He said abruptly.

 

"Okay." Lydia consoled, placing a soothing hand on the back of his neck.

 

Parrish hefted Derek to his feet, Lydia supporting him with an arm around his waist.

 

"I didn't say no," He repeated. For some reason, it was suddenly vital that they understood that right now. “I didn’t say no." He could tell they didn't believe him. "I didn't... I just needed some fucking time and he just… he couldn’t wait. He didn’t let me finish… he didn't let me finish.” He sat down again all energy leaving his body.

 

Surprised, Parrish and Lydia as one sat down either side of him.

 

Parrish was the first to speak in the surprised silence “You really didn’t?”

 

Derek shook his head. “No…fuck… no… I mean…” Everything was coming out wrong and Lydia reached out and covered his hands with hers. “And now… and now… fuck.” He hung his head distraught. He had ruined everything just like Scott had said.

 

“Stop. It’s okay.” She murmured trying to reassure.

 

Derek took a long shuddering breath. “I don’t… want am I going to do now? I can't go back.”

 

Lydia leaned into him. “You survive. Okay. That’s what you do.”

 

The thing was Derek didn’t know if he could right now. He’d just lost everything in another fire. His assets were frozen. He had no money. He was barely scraping on his weekly paycheck. His apartment was barely furnished. He wasn't destitute, but he felt like wasn't far from it. He wasn’t even sure if he had anything left to give. Despite Lydia and Parrish being there, he felt untethered from them. Omega, his mind whispered. He shivered.

“Lydia--"

 

“Tequila?” Parrish interrupted. "We need Tequila."

 

“Oh. My. God. Yes.” Lydia said moving over to her bag and pulling out a large bottle. “Who wants to go first? I bought some tequila laced with wolfsbane.”

 

****


	6. Hey Now, Don't Dream It's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles visits Derek at his apartment aiming to confront him about what he thinks of his girlfriend. The two men instead clash about old hurts from that hotel room in Chicago.

Chapter Six

Hey, Now, Don’t Dream It’s Over

 

 

**Grocery Store – Main Street**

**Beacon Hills**

 

Scott slowly stacked the groceries into the back of his car. His arm was almost healed, but there was the occasional twinge as a nerve ending reknitted itself. He flexed his hand absently. He spied Danny getting coffee and he could feel his face lit up. “Danny!” He called.

Danny turned away from the hole in the wall coffee place and waved at Scott. “Dude.”   He took the coffee from the barista and jogged over to him. “Dude.”

“Don’t dude me.” Scott teased. “Stiles said you were back.”

Danny rolled a shoulder taking a sip of coffee. “Yeah. I’m actually working with Lydia at theUni.”

Scott clapped his hands together delighted. “That’s awesome. What are you working on?”

A laugh escaped Danny. “I know you’re a vet, but this is probably a little…”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that complicated.”

“You know that research paper I did at school on the currents.” Scott knew that research paper like the back of his hand and he nodded but didn’t comment. “It’s about that.” Danny finished.

“How’s it going?” Scott asked instead of actually asking about the specifics. He learned from being around Lydia never ask for the full description always ask for the cliff notes version of a research paper.

A disappointed look drifted across Danny’s face. “Good.”

“Really?”

Danny sighed rubbing the coffee cup between the palms of his hands. “Well. Not really, but I think I’ve got something that’s going to make it make sense.”

“That’s amazing dude,” Scott said.

A bashful look crossed Danny’s face. “Thanks, man. How’s the shoulder? Lydia mentioned--”

Scott made a show of moving it in a circle. “Healing.”

Danny tapped his watch. “Listen, good to catch up, but I gotta…”

Impulsively, Scott grabbed at his arm. “Hey, I do this family and friends lunch thing. You’re welcome to come.”

The delighted smile that lit up Danny’s face made Scott’s own grin bloom. “What day?”

“Sundays around noon.”

“Okay. Okay. See you then.”

Scott watched him go and then began the process of finishing to load the car with groceries.

He hated shopping. It was his least favorite activity Kira usually did online orders and had it delivered on Saturday mornings while he was at the clinic. His phone rang and eyes still on Danny he answered it on the second ring. “Hey, babe, we might have a plus one for the Sunday lunch.”

 

*****

 

**Watch House**

**Beacon Hills**

Derek was packing equipment into the truck when Kira clambered into the van he spared her a quick look. “All good?” He asked as Kira shoved her phone back into her pocket.

She shrugged. “Scott invited Danny to lunch.”

A tingle of disappointment flickered through Derek that Scott had actually asked Danny and had yet to actually spare him the courtesy. Surprised, by the reminder of how far he was out of the pack and how much it still hurt. “Oh.”

Kira shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Danny’s okay.” Derek finished counting the bandages and turned to her. Kira was watching him with conflicted eyes. He sighed. "Kira--" he began, knowing what her next question was going to be. She didn’t disappoint.

“You coming on Sunday?”

Derek sighed and crawled out of the truck. “Why does it matter?”

“Because.” Kira began and then stopped glancing up at him with an expression he couldn’t read. "Because," She said again and stopped.

Derek turned away and closed the truck doors and checked the handle. “Okay. Well. Good talk.”

Kira grabbed his arm tugging on his blue uniform sleeve, forcing him to turn around. “Scott really does wants you to come.”

Derek took that in and tried to weigh the truth of it. Scott had been overtures of friendship, but it still felt like any reconciliation was a long way off. “Sure.”

Kira’s hand dropped away as she tried again. “I want you to come. Please.”

“I’ll think about it,” Derek said placating. Although, in reality the absolute last thing he wanted to do was attend a McCall family function. Yet, if that’s what he needed to try and bridge the cavernous gap between them all, then he would try. At least he would try. Although, he wasn’t sure he could handle all the snide comments from Heather about being ordinary. Everything he wasn’t. Everything Stiles seemed to prefer now.

Kira’s smile was full of relief. “Thank you. Trust me Scott’s roast is… well, let’s just say it’s improved.”

Derek laughed amused. The siren sounded indicating they were required on a call. “I’ll think about it,” He repeated still undecided about whether or not he would attend. He’d had so little sleep lately that socializing was way down on his bucket list of weekend activities. His skin crawled as he remembered the recent dream that had left him aching for his family in a new way. Pushing those thoughts aside with effort he heaved himself into the passenger seat as Kira punched the car into gear and flipped on the siren.

 

****

 

**M-Ath’s – Malia’s Store**

 

“You never said you spoke for him at the hearing.”

Malia’s head popped up from where she was busy trying to stitch together a new prototype pattern. She hated to admit it, but the black line of glitter kind of worked. “Um. Hi.”   Then she gulped as she realized that Lydia was wearing jeans. Shit. She was pissed.

“You spoke for him.” Lydia reiterated tugging at the over-sized sweatshirt. Clearly one of her husbands.

Malia held up her hand needle and thread still in it. “Not exactly.”

“How. Not. Exactly.” She eyed the store and nodded. “First week go well?”

“Well, it’s Sunday so we’re closed. But. Good.” Malia said placing the items back down on her work desk. “How do you get in?”

“Stiles made sure we had keys.”

“That little weasel,” Malia said in surprise. “It’s my store.”

“Of course it is” Lydia soothed and then rested her hands across from the desk. “You advocated for Peter's release?”

“No. I didn’t. I swear.”

“I read the statement. You did.” Lydia paused and then sighed. “In essence you did.”

Malia threw up her hands in frustration. “He’s my father. Well, at least … and all I said people can change and he seems different.”

“You also said that his fixated.”

Malia nodded. “Yes. Yes. And that’s in there as well.” Because it honestly creeped her out the way, he was so focused on Derek.

Lydia tapped a fingernail on the desk. Thoughtful. “Huh. I don’t think they read it if it’s any consolation. It was only an addition the Parole board has already set it in motion.”

“I don’t understand,” Malia said completely bewildered.

“You visit him every week.”

“I … well…” Malia shrugged at a loss what to say here. “He’s …”

“Family.” Lydia finished. She gave her a long evaluating look and then said. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Malia snapped frustrated by the circular conversation.

Lydia smiled and it was impressed. “War of attrition. Am I right? You’re making sure he trusts you so that when something happens…”

That… made a horrible amount of sense Malia realized. But, it hadn’t been why she’d visited him at first. She had wanted to understand him to make sure she didn’t become him. “Not at first,” She said finally with realization. “But… maybe…” She froze in horror. “I am his daughter.”

Lydia snapped her fingers. “Nature vs. Nurture. I wouldn’t worry.”

“I really hate it when you’re cryptic,” Malia muttered as Lydia tugged the new prototype outfit towards her.

“This is pretty.” She trailed a hand over the glitter. “Black glitter? Interesting choice don’t you think?”

“Fuck off.” Malia countered, but it was not unkind. She frowned at Lydia. “Aren’t you worried about … about him coming back?”

Lydia bit her lip and then slowly nodded. “I’m terrified.” She looked up at her then and Malia felt her heart stutter at the unfocused Banshee gaze being directed at her.

“What do hear?” Malia asked quietly having learned not to jolt her out of these kinds of trances.

Lydia jolted and then her gaze locked on her knowing and bland all at once. “Huh? What did you say?”

Malia forced a casual smile. “Um. So wanna grab a coffee?”

A grateful smile flew across Lydia’s face. “That would be lovely. Parrish is working a double so it would be nice to have company for a while.”

 

******

 

**Derek’s Apartment**

**Beacon Hills**

 

Patrol car rolled to a stop outside the apartment complex. Coming off a double shift Stiles stared up through the windscreen at the building. Parrish had said that Derek lived here now on the third floor. It was close to the edge of the Preserve in one of the new swanky rebuilds. Modern. It was the world away from where Derek had lived before. At almost midnight, the whole building was dark except for one window.

Stiles had a feeling he knew whose it was. He’d bet his last dollar that it was Derek’s. Heather had told him what Derek had said about her. It was stupid to be annoyed by the fact that Derek had called his girlfriend ordinary, but he was. He was pissed and worried. Derek had been weird earlier at Malia's recent store opening and it worried him. He hated to use the word skittish, but that’s how he had seemed. The way he bolted out of the storeroom was unlike him. He shied away from thinking about the rush of jealousy he had felt at the flirtatious look Nathan had given Derek.

A shadowed passed by the window. It looked like Derek was working out or painting or something. Tiredly, but with resolve he made his way into the building he buzzed the number that said, Hale. He noted the D. Mahealani and smiled. It was nice that Danny was in the same building. They must have good rent control. Lydia had never complained when she'd lived here. Derek answered quickly. The detective in him sprang into action. He smirked at his deduction. Derek had been awake then. If he’d been asleep, it would’ve taken him longer.

“Hey.” Stiles drawled.

“Stiles?” Even through the tiny intercom Stiles could picture Derek’s eyebrows dancing in confusion.

“Yeah.”

The door buzzed open with no further explanation.

The door was open to Derek’s apartment and he was leaning against the door jam watching Stiles move out of the elevator.

“You got a sec?” Stiles asked moving closer, the light revealed Derek dressed in sweats standing there. Derek waved him inside into his apartment instead of answering.

Stiles looked around. It was different from that old loft apartment, modern, French inspired and it was oddly homey. He followed Derek into the kitchen. “You want a coffee?”

“Just came off duty.” Stiles shook his head and then watched Derek begin to make it anyway. He was distracting himself. Classic avoidance tactic, Stiles thought.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” Derek poured the coffee into the filter machine and hit the on button.

“How come you’re up?” Stiles asked instead. He watched Derek’s shoulders tense. “I’d say I’m surprised, but is it… being back here? Lydia said you’re having trouble sleeping and you don’t seem like... You don’t seem like the Derek we used to know.”

Derek did turn then a wry bitter smile crossing his face. He huffed out a frustrated laugh. “Well, I guess I just haven't been him in a while.”

Stiles frowned at him trying not take the bait. “Come on, man. What’s going on?”

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. “I haven’t been sleeping. It's...fine. You sure you don't want coffee?”

"No. Come on, you must have an idea." Stiles shrugged that wasn’t news. It was pretty obvious. It was now almost midnight and Derek was housing him as a guest. He waited him out, not willing to let Derek walk away from this as he had earlier at the store. "You can still tell me anything, okay."

Derek was struggling with whether to confess whatever it was and then clenching his jaw he said finally. “I woke up in the Preserve.”

“Ooookay,” Stiles said, thinking rapidly. “You went on a Wolfy walk? That’s normal, right? Probably didn’t get a chance to shift properly in Chicago… so… you’re just acclimatizing--”

“No.” Derek braced himself against the kitchen bench as the coffee filter gurgled behind him. Stiles saw his hand clench tightly against the bench and stepped forward. "That's not it."

"No?"

“No.” Derek agreed. His hand flexed and he pointedly tried to relax it when he noticed Stiles' watching. “No, I sleepwalked into the preserve and I woke up on Laura’s grave.”

“You woke up in the cemetery!” Stiles exclaimed shocked. "Jesus, Der--"

“N-.” Derek coughed clearing his throat, interrupting him. “No. To where she died. Where I--” He couldn’t finish and he shrugged awkwardly.

Stiles' eyes widened in realization and he sat down on the red wooden kitchen stool. “Where Peter…” He drew in a sharp breath between his teeth. “Where he did the…” he made a slashing motion with his hand.

Derek nodded avoiding his eyes, his face pinched and drawn.

Wrapping his brain around that wasn’t hard. He could easily visualize Derek waking up in the wintery surroundings, disorientated and it sparked a long buried feeling. Resolutely and with an effort he pushed it down. “Do you know why?”

“Stiles.” Derek grabbed some milk from the fridge and placed it on the counter top and then some mugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It could be about Peter… maybe it’s--”

“Is that why you’re here? To talk about Peter?”

No. It wasn’t why he was here. He was here because Heather had told him about what Derek had said, but he didn’t feel like he could bring that up now. Besides, Derek had been right. She was ordinary. Perfectly normal. A blonde sweetheart. Nothing supernatural about her. It had been a pleasant change. “You should’ve come to me.” Stiles reasoned instead.

Derek eyes widened, then darkened. “How the fuck… this isn’t…” He took in a deep breath flexing his hands again where they gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip.

Stiles watched as Derek gathered himself closing off. Closing himself from him. “You should’ve come to me,” He repeated firmly. Baiting him, but he couldn’t stop himself. Derek had somehow ended up in the Preserve on Laura’s grave and the worst part of it was that it was near where the body had been found. He debated the idea about whether or not he was going to have to tell his Dad. He was leaning on the cautionary side of probably not yet. Not until he had more information.

“I was talking to Mrs. James the other day,” Derek said conversational his voice flat. “And you know what she said to me? Where’s that boy you were with. I thought you’d always be together. Always.” Derek laughed and it sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Stiles shivered, his spine prickling. He’d had thought the same thing once.

“Always. We had that, I think until you ambushed me.”

Ambushed?

_Ambushed_.

Suddenly and deeply furious Stiles stood up so quickly the stool fell over thumping to the floor. He thumped his hand down on the countertop. The fruit bowl rattled and Derek flinched, but otherwise remained unmoved. This argument had been building for weeks a taut undercurrent between them since Derek had arrived back and it was erupting at the worst possible time, but Stiles couldn’t stop himself from taking the bait. “Ambushed?” He questioned, his voice low and hard.

Derek nodded.

“By _proposing_ you mean?”

“YES!” Derek snapped equally furious stepping closer to Stiles. His green eyes flecked with an undefined emotion. “Out of the fucking--“

“Fuck you.” Stiles shoved him hard.

Derek took the brunt of it his eyes flashing, yellow.  His chest heaved as Stiles shoved him backward again hard with the palm of his hand. “Stiles.”

“Let me tell you something, Derek,” Stiles breathed out, anger and hurt bleeding through his tone. Stiles thumped his chest again and Derek stumbled catching his footing.

“Stiles.” Derek tried again. “Stop.”

Stiles shook his head refusing to listen. Refusing to heed him. “You know how you get 'always,' Derek? When a guy asks you to marry him, you don’t say NO!”

“I never said no!” Derek grabbed Stiles’ hands which had clenched into fists against his chest. “I said that I wanted this! That I wanted us and that I did want to…” Derek let him go trying to pull back to rein in his anger, but the gut wrenching hurt was all across his face. “But, you didn't let me... you gave up on us.”

Stunned, Stiles could only stare at him flabbergasted, stumbling backward a few steps away from Derek. “I gave up on us.” He’d been the definition of in it for the long haul that fucking bastard. “I did?”

Derek nodded. Defiant. Hurt. Gutted. He had never looked more beautiful. God damn him.

“Let me be clear, by proposing _marriage_ to you, I gave up?” Stiles clarified.

“No.” Derek said quietly, fiercely. “By _not_ _waiting_ you did.”

Those words sucked the breath right out of him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Stiles murmured still reeling, but regrouping. He could feel the remembered hurt at Derek’s decline of his proposal thudding through him like it was a new wound. “You want the truth?” He barely waited for Derek’s answering yes before stepping forward again right into Derek’s space. “Let’s talk truth, huh? You gave up on me. That’s why you couldn’t say yes. You didn’t think I could handle being a cop after…” he swallowed voice catching, “after that shit with Theo, and you had enough.”

“Well, if that’s the truth.” Derek shot back anguished. “Why did I follow your fucking career? Check in with Parrish to see if you or Scott needed help?”

“That’s what …” Pack does, but Stiles didn’t get a chance to finish.

Derek steamrolled over him. “Why did he insist that you still believed in me? … That you knew I could survive anything because you said it to them, you said it to me before and fuck I wish you hadn’t Stiles.” Derek drew in a ragged breath enraged, ‘because you, shit…” his voice dropped out, cracking, “you really didn’t… fuck, you didn’t mean any of it.” Derek’s voice lingered like a thunderclap in the room.

They were both punching each other with words and drawing blood. Derek was breaking. It was evident in the way he was holding himself. Fuck, he was breaking. Stiles raised a shaking hand in surrender. “This isn’t why I came… I’m gonna go. I don’t know why—“ They were both better than this. “I’m gonna go—“ He repeated, gaze flitting over Derek and moving to the walls and back.

Derek’s bowed his head, crossing his arms. He turned his head away.

Stiles moved into the hallway and Derek’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Stiles? I am not your problem to solve. Whatever, my … whatever’s wrong you don’t need to fix it.”

Enraged, Stiles whirled around to find Derek standing there shadowed in the doorway face still hidden. “That’s pack, Derek…. It’s what friends do!?”

The words hit their mark he could tell by the roll of Derek’s shoulder. "Yeah, _of course_ , they do."  

Stiles turned to go, but Derek’s voice grabbed him at the door.

“It needs to stop.”

Stiles rested his head against the frame, but this time didn’t turn around. “Maybe you’re right.”

He slipped out before Derek could answer. Maybe Derek was right, but Stiles couldn’t just stop caring and looking after him. He did that with all his friends. There was a reason the Chicago newspaper was on his IPad. He'd been following Derek's career as well. The door thudded closed behind him.

There was an audible shattering sound through the door that made Stiles jolt. Most likely a mug or the fruit bowl had lost a battle with the wall. Still trembling from the fight Stiles turned back resting his right hand against the wooden front door. Bracing himself, he hung his head taking a deep shuddering breath, fist thumping against the wall punctuated his words. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

 

******

 


	7. Cheers & Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the local bar, while the pack is having weekly drinks, Parrish worries about Lydia's state of mind as she continues to have residual affects from her visions. Meanwhile, Derek comes to a realization that he came back to Beacon Hills for Stiles and Scott is concerned when Stiles makes a rash decision that could have ramifications for Heather and Derek.

**Chapter Seven**

**“Cheers & Tears”**

 

**Joe’s Irish Bar Beacon Hills**

The only Irish bar in Beacon Hills was holding steady business. Leaning against the countertop, Scott and Stiles watched the bartender pour their beers. “Show me.” Stiles demanded and handed Scott the pen that had been left on the wooden bench top.

 “I’ll take that dare,” Scott said the pen twirled dancing across his fingers and Scott looked over to Stiles and grinned. “See.”

 Stiles nodded mock seriously. “Looking good buddy,”

 The bartender placed two tall beers in front of them. Stiles took a long sip wiping away the foam from his top lip with his thumb. The ping of the front bell to the bar made him look to the doorway and he withheld his sigh as Derek entered escorted by Parrish and Lydia. Craning his head, he watched as the three of them moved through the bar to sit a booth in the back. Derek was ignoring him. Stiles frowned noting the way that Parris's hand on his shoulder pushed him through the crowd. Lydia gave him a slight wave, but also kept pushing both men forward away from him. Stiles' eyes narrowed thoughtfully, pushing Derek away from him. They hadn’t actually seen or spoken to one another since the argument the other night. Not since Derek had claimed that he hadn’t waited. He snorted to himself irritated again at the idea. It was fucking bullshit; he had gone to Chicago to just be with him. At Scott's querying nudge to his shoulder he said, “Why are relationships so hard?”

Scott sighed deeply. “You’re talking about Derek, aren’t you?”

 Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. How’d you know?”

 “Wasn’t hard to figure out,” Scott said, “You haven’t taken your eyes off him yet.”

 Stiles’ gaze snapped to Scott. “What? No.” Under Scott’s unwavering and knowing gaze, Stiles gave in. “How do you make it work man? You and he were soo” Stiles put down his drink and made claw like motions. “Argh Argh.”

 Scott laughed. “Oh jeez, that was ages ago and it was completely different.”

 “Not really,” Stiles muttered feeling mutinous. He remembered clearly the look on Scott’s face when he said he’d kissed Derek while he was still with Malia. He'd been furious that he would do that to Malia, and oddly protective of Derek then, of them all really. It hadn’t been an easy ride to the two of them dating, but by then Scott and Derek had had a whole brotherly relationship going. Stiles hadn’t been jealous, Derek was never going to usurp his place with Scott. He had felt a little weird over Malia and Derek’s eventual friendship while they were dating. But, he’d learn to live with it and then in the end it hadn’t mattered because Derek wasn’t around anymore. He’d left.

 “Yes. Really," Scott said dryly, "Derek and I were never in love.”

 Stiles had nothing to say to that because it was the truth. “He’s avoiding me.”

 “So is your girlfriend, but you seem to be more upset about Derek,” Scott observed with a gentle nod to where Heather was chatting with Kira. She was a study in casual disinterest.

 Stiles took another sip of his drink instead of responding and despite himself his gaze tracking back to Derek.

 

*****

 Lydia held out two twenties to Derek “You buy this round, I’ll get the next.”

 He knew exactly what she was doing, but he couldn’t say no without looking foolish. He gave her a withering look. “Fine.” Malia and Lydia listed their drinks and he frowned. He had no idea what a purple delight was, but it sounded ugly.

 “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Malia dared him.

“It’s gross. Don’t ever try it,” Lydia disagreed and then clapped her hands. “Go, go.”

 Sliding through the bar crowd Derek tried not to let the presence of some energy get to him. It was no different to any of the bars that he’d been to in Chicago. For some reason, it was a struggle tonight and he could put it down to only one thing. The argument with Stiles had put him on edge. He felt like his emotions were dancing on the brink of a knife. He knew people recognized him here and lately it was more about recognizing him from his job, than the fact that he was a Hale. Time did dull some memories it seemed. Trying to shake it off, he headed for a gap in the bar crowd to order the drinks and if it happened to be away from Stiles then so be it. But, as fate would have the two cocktail drinking students moved away leaving a large hole in the bar crowd.

 Stiles raised his empty glass at Derek in mock salute of nice try. Scott turned around and then clapped him on the arm. “Hey, Derek.”

 “Scott.” Derek said shortly, nerves wound tight, he patted Scott’s shoulder and then his gaze back to the man standing just behind him. “Stiles."

 “Derek.”

 “What can I get you?” The bartender asked.

 Stiles answered for him before he could say anything. “One Vodka cranberry, a purple delight and a scotch on the rocks.”

 The Bartender glanced at Stiles then at Derek checking, Derek nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that and beer from the tap."

 “Oh baby, that' so sweet of you,” Heather said smoothly her voice laced with vitriol as she arrived with Kira in tow. “You remember all their drinks, even his and after all this time,” She wrapped her arm around a suddenly awkward Stiles' waist and shot Derek a daring look.

 Derek willed himself to look away. He met Lydia’s gaze in the mirror. She made a gesture – want me to come over? Derek shook his head in a subtle no.

 “It's not difficult,” Stiles murmured turning away to grab order a new drink. "Some things don't change."

 "Sometimes they do," Scott said pointedly.

 “Tell me, Derek, how was your visit?” Heather asked as the Bartender prepared Derek’s tray of drinks. "What's it like going back there?" She was genuinely curious. "If it were me, I would--"

 Shit. He’d forgotten about her interested wave in the marble foyer of Eichen House when he had gone back. Gone back to see him. Derek could feel himself tense in a fight or flight response. He rolled a shoulder to release the tension. He cast vague look about the bar in what he hoped was a dismissive manner for her question. "Fine. It was fine."

 No one believed him especially Stiles, whose head snapped around. “Visit?” He asked, turning back now that he ordered his drink. "What visit?"

 “Oh,” Heather said feigning surprise, “Sorry, didn't I tell you, hun? I saw him at Eichen House, I was dropping off that admin docs… doesn’t matter. Anyway, how was it, I hear he’s getting out soon? That’s got to be weird for all of you. I mean I just--”

 She was cut off by Stiles as he interrupted her, sliding forward slightly into Derek’s space. “You saw him again? After the… You went back?” He glanced at Kira. “Do you know about this?”

Kira’s nodded. “Well, no…. but,” Then she sighed touching Derek’s arm in an apparent apology. “I drove him there this time.”

“What’s wrong with your car?” Scott asked surprised. “Didn’t you…”

 “My car’s fine.”   He ignored the way Kira glanced at Scott and negated his comment with not so subtle shake of his head. He’s car or the guzzler as Lydia called it, was skating through, it had survived Chicago, it could make through a Beacon Hills winter.

 “Why would you go back there?” Stiles asked, not one to be derailed from an interrogation and still standing slightly too close. “Especially after last time?” Derek could see Stiles hand flutter towards him, almost like he was going to rest it on his hip. He could see the moment that it registered with Stiles what he was doing and he dropped his hand down to rest on the bar top instead. His fingers flexed. Derek eased himself backwards a step, work boots hitting the metal footrest than ran the length of the bar.

 Heather, meanwhile, frowned, hand on Stiles forearm, trying to tug him back a step away from Derek. “Stiles, it’s his family and it’s not like he's a killer--” She paused awkwardly as all men tensed, "He's family, right?"

 “Oh, I know exactly who it is.” Stiles scoffed, lowering his chin and squinting his eyes at Derek. “We all know who Peter Hale is and what he’s done—“

 “Stiles.” Scott placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder and rubbed it absently almost if he was sensing Derek’s climbing distress. “We get it."

 “Do you?” Stiles’ displeasure was obvious.

 Derek’s nail pressed into the wooden bar top tracking a hard line. A groove in an absent pattern. The visceral energy and scents of everyone in the bar surged back over him. Pressing down on him and Derek sighed and instead of answering Stiles turned to the bartender, shaking off Scott’s comforting hand, and he dropped the money down over the grooves he’d made. “That cover it?”

 The bartender nodded and then handed him the tray. Taking it, he ignored the way two purple and red drinks sloshed over their rims. Moving quickly, he slid the tray onto the table and then muttered. “I’ll be back in a second.” Lydia, now joined by Parrish was deep in conversation with Malia about fashion and marketing techniques waved a hand. Sure thing. They wouldn’t miss his presence which was a relief.

 “Okay, buddy?” Parrish’s brow furrowed as he took over handing out the drinks.

 Derek nodded but just pointed towards the restrooms. Walking to the back of the bar towards the kitchen and amenities he kept going until he was in the alleyway outside breathing in the cold, fresh and unscented air.

 

*****

Stiles couldn’t help himself he tracked Derek’s movements over Heather’s shoulder and saw the moment he actually left the bar. God, damn broody bastard. He hadn’t changed in that respect. “Ow?!” Stiles grabbed Heather’s hand from where she had dug a fingernail into his forearm.

 “Can you please focus?” she asked, annoyance creeping into her tone.

 Running a hand soothingly over her arm, Stiles nodded and glanced at Scott who pretended to be studiously focused on drinking his beer. “Yeah, of course.”

 “I really don’t think you realize what’s happening here.” She declared.

 “You’re pissed because I missed dinner last night. I told you I had some stuff at work that --” Stiles said and when Heather shook her head. He threw up a hand, at a loss. “Then, what?”

 “You don’t see it, do you? I’m becoming him. I'm basically single white male or whatever,” She jabbed a finger into Stiles' chest. “I’m becoming Derek fucked up Hale and I don’t like it.”

 “What?!” Scott and Stiles said in unison perplexed.

 “Sorry.” Scott held up his hands in apology when he realized that he verbalized his surprise.

 The sheepish look on Scott’s face did not appease him and Stiles raised his eyebrows silently communicating to Scott that he should leave them alone. Scott rolled his eyes and complied.   Heather and Stiles waited until Scott had grabbed his drink and guided Kira away before turning back to one another.

 “You gotta explain that one, baby. Because I seriously, seriously, have no idea what that even means.”

 “I’m a natural blond.”

 Stiles shrugged helplessly to understand where she was coming from. “And?”

 “My hair color is brown. Brown.” Heather pulled at her hair. "And you didn't even notice... did you?"

 “I don’t know, it looks pretty.” Stiles brushed his hand over it twirling the end of her hair around his fingers. To be fair in his opinion, it was more of a really dark sandy blonde.

 His words only served to incense Heather further. She pushed his hand away. "I run in the preserve, I use a woody perfume.” She eyed him. “You can't tell me the reason you're so obsessed with this case is because it links you to him? To Derek…. Am I wrong? Am I?!"

 Over Heather's shoulder, Stiles could see Scott wince and glance back at him, raising an eyebrow in agreement with her argument. Stiles shot him a glare. He'd deal with him later. "Sweetie. It's my job."

 “Really.” Heather was not appeased. Her frustration and hurt shining through. "You gotta choose. Because I can’t do it, Stiles. I can’t compete and I shouldn’t have too.”

 She left him standing there and he felt oddly frozen like was on the precipice of something. A tap broke his train of thought and he glanced sideways to find the Bartender touching a glass beside him with a soft ping. “Tough break man.”

 Taking the free drink offered, Stiles took a long slow sip and shook his head. “You have no idea.”

 He glanced about the bar and then saw that Derek had yet to return and that ignited a wave of anger in him that had been fueled by his conversation with Heather. Replacing the drink on the bench after taking a long, grateful gulp he grabbed his leather jacket and went to find Derek.

 

******

“Back in a sec!”

 Lydia watched Malia dart over to Kira and Scott and then drummed her hand against her thigh. Parrish’s hand covered it and then gently pulled it into his lap. “Babe?”

 She gave him a slight sigh. “Nothing.”

 He squinted at her with disbelief and to distract him she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re sweet.”

 Parrish smiled, pleased. “Sweet.”

 Lydia gave him another slow kiss. “Sweet.”

 He grabbed her other hand and they held it out. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

 “Oh, Really,” Lydia smirked, suggestive.

 Parrish’s eyes widened and he glanced about them. Still such a boy scout. “Really.” Parrish allowed her to cuddle into and she ran her hand down his back and down towards… He grabbed it. “Lydia!”

 “Oh, come on,” Lydia said, “Live a little.”

 “We should talk about it.”

 She had woken up screaming again. This time, it hadn’t been a banshee feeling just an old nightmare about Peter trapping her. “I'm all right.”

 Parrish let out a puff of air. “You sound—“

 “I’m not Derek,” Lydia said, wrestling playfully out of his hold. “It’s just…” She frowned, searching the bar for him. “I’m worried about him.”

 “And dreaming about Peter.” Parrish gave her a considered look tapping his lips thoughtfully. “It makes perfect sense. Those two are family. Derek’s…”

 “Derek isn’t responsible for what happened to me,” Lydia said sharply. Parrish eyed her with a look of annoyance.

 “Yes, thank you. I know what victim blaming is.”

 “Sorry,” Lydia whispered. “I just have this feeling and it’s making me feel like—“

 “Dirt.” Parrish surmised. “You’ve been washing your hands and cleaning the house like there’s no tomorrow.”

 She gave him a sheepish smile but didn’t apologize. Before Parrish could question her more, Malia returned and gave them a large wide tooth smile. “Kira reckons Scott’s arms all right.” She turned to find him in the crowd and paused. Where was Stiles? Where was Derek? Heather was with Scott and Kira.

 “Babe?”

 She gave Parrish another distracted smile. “It’s okay,” She said hoping it was the truth.

 

*****

 

Outside in the back alleyway behind the bar, Derek was seated on the asphalt staring down at his hands trying to get his bearings, trying to feel centered. The Beacon Hills air helped. There were too many voices sometimes in bars, in cities and not for the first time Derek thought it was good to be home. He hadn’t spoken to Stiles since their argument and he’d actually been trying to put off that ‘talk’ as long as possible.

 Hearing feet crunching in the dirty gravel, Derek looked up and upon seeing Stiles approach he stood up. Wiping his hands on his jeans he tried to move past Stiles and down the alley.

 Stiles stepped in front of him. “Not so fast.”

 He huffed at out an annoyed breath. “Go back inside, Stiles.”

 “Do you have some freaking death wish?” Stiles asked seemingly perplexed. “Because I know you have a guilt complex as big as the freaking Atlantic, but letting Peter inside your head again. Derek ... that’s—“

 “He’s not…” Derek interrupted. He brushed a hand over his face remembering the way Peter had been docile. Meek wasn’t a way one usually described Peter, but that’s the way he had seemed. Meek. It was odd how that unsettled him on some deep level, kind of the way Stiles was making him feel right now. Unsettled. Untethered.

 Stiles scoffed at his words. “He’s already inside, you dimwit.”

 “He’s not.” Derek’s voice wasn’t convincing and Stiles smirked at him knowingly. “This isn’t your fight.”

 “Every one of us in that bar have always been in this, Scott and me from the start,” Stiles countered, “and if you can’t…” Stiles turned away and then turned back stepping closer, changing focus. “No. You know what, I flew to Chicago and asked you to marry me and you said no… so I don’t --.” Stiles stepped closer again, they were only two feet apart now.

“What are you doing, Derek?”

 Derek’s heart stuttered at the plaintiveness in Stiles’ voice and said honestly, “I should’ve said, yes.”

 “Ph… what?.” Stiles gasped out completely surprised.

 “After the fire and the insurance, I just wasn’t ready…” Earnestly Derek closed the rest of the distance to a now frozen Stiles. Their gaze met and held. This was everything he should’ve said the other night. “Stiles… if I'd known that trying to say that, I wasn’t ready… for that… would mean losing you, then I would’ve said yes.”

 “Derek. You don’t…” Stiles shook his head, unsure.

 Now only inches away from him, Derek leaned forward, their noses almost touching. He brushed his cheek against Stiles. Stiles’ warm breath drifting over the back of his neck. “Holy hell. I would have said yes.” He whispered finally against Stiles' ear.

 Cupping Stiles’ face gently in both of his now freezing cold hands, Derek carefully, and hesitant almost, pressed his lips to Stiles chapped ones. Soft. Gentle. Heartfelt. The familiarity of it, of the particular tastes of Stiles, the tang of his favorite beer, coffee and the unique scent of his musk. All of it combined to send a tingle up Derek’s spine. He shivered in want and that’s when he realized.

 Stiles hadn’t moved.

 He wasn’t returning the kiss.

 He hadn’t kissed him back.

 He seemed stunned. Lips parted in genuine surprise.

 It hurt to do so, but Derek pulled back and away, taking a step backward heel scraping on the asphalt. Blinking rapidly an apology on the tip of his tongue, then for one long moment he couldn’t seem to get his voice to work as he stared into Stiles’ still-astonished eyes.

 There was an internal war going on in there that Derek couldn’t quite read. Before he could move away altogether, Stiles surged forward and kissed him back.

 It was dirty and filthy and everything Derek had been craving.

Stiles whimpered as he pressed into Derek wanting to get closer to him. Derek rocked with the movement. His arms fell down to wrap around Stiles' waist to bring him closer while Stiles right hand moved to the base of Derek’s neck, curling in his hair, gripping with a vice-like hold.

 Now. _This_.

This was everything that he’d been missing. He breathed it in, the feel of it. Stiles wrapped around him, lips sliding over his and he was so focused on Stiles that he didn’t notice or sense Kira watching from the doorway of the bar disappointment etched on her face. They were too caught up in one another to see her shrinking back into the bar.

Time felt slow and drugged to Derek as they kissed, but then with a groan Stiles pulled away, his hand still clenched in Derek’s hair. He rested his forehead against Derek’s and for a moment they just breathed together. Ragged deep breaths and again before Derek could say anything, Stiles spoke.

“I have to find Heather.”

Poleaxed, Derek dropped his hands away from Stiles in a quick abortive movement, his heart still thumping, his breathing still ragged. “Um. Okay?”

Eyes locked on Derek, Stiles backed away not turning around his fingers pressed to his lips as he moved. He didn’t look away from Derek until he reached the doorway back into the bar. He opened it with a hard yank and then disappeared back inside.

It took a further ten minutes for Derek to pull himself together enough and force himself back inside to face the music. It felt like he was lit up in a way that it hadn’t been for years. If this one thing that Stile had always been able to do, he’d always known how to make him want. That had never been their problem just Derek and Stiles and they own stupid issues.

Eyes quickly surveying the bar, he wasn’t sure if was relieved to find that Scott, Kira, Stiles and Heather had already left. He felt oddly winded still but tried to hide it as he weaved back through the now dwindling crowd and resumed his seat next to Lydia.

“You okay, hun?” Lydia asked taking in his fragile poker expression for what it was, an epiphany.

“I came back for Stiles.” Derek said the words erupting out of him. He swallowed and then said it again “I came back for Stiles.” The revelation took him by surprise.

From where she sat opposite Malia exchanged a look with Lydia and put down her disgustingly purple cocktail. “We know.”

Derek’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “You do?”

“Oh, honey.” Lydia said rubbing his arm reassuringly as Derek stared glumly at the dimly lit bar. “You’ve had I’m gonna try and get him back face since we boarded the plane.”

Malia stared at Lydia “That was a mouthful,” she turned to Derek. “But, you did. She’s right.” She took another slurp of her drink. Her tongue turning purple. “It’s the only face you’ve got.”

Derek sighed. “It doesn’t matter he’s with Heather now.”

 _I have to find Heather’._ Stiles’ words echoing in his ears.

Malia laughed knowingly. “Derek. Listen to me. I’ve been the meat in that particular sandwich and trust me when I say …”

“She doesn’t stand a chance.” Lydia finished.

“She doesn’t.” Malia said directly as always. “And I’d know.”

“Right,” Derek said, as he remembered watching the way Stiles looked at Heather. He loved her. Maybe not the same way, Derek thought, Stiles loved him, but he still cared for her and deeply.

“Derek.” Lydia clicked her manicured nails in front of his face. “Don’t be stupid. Stiles moved heaven and earth to prove your innocence after the whole Kate thing. He tracked you down in Mexico." She waved a hand, " That man loves you.”

“You think he might still?”

“Still?” Malia slammed her palm down on the table in front of Derek, drawing some startled look from the rest of the bar. She ignored them. “Trust me. Trust us. It’s always been Stiles and Derek. Derek and Stiles. Even I knew that… So go forth and get him. Take a chance.”

 

*****

 

**Melissa McCall’s House**

Wrenching the spanner around Melissa’s drain pipe Scott thought not for the first time that he should’ve let his mother call the plumber. She probably still should. “Yo, bro.” Scott called, “Can you pass me that… thing?”

Stiles’s foot nudged his leg. “You have no clue, do you? What you’re asking for?”

Something in Stiles' voice that made Scott pause. “Dude. You sound weird.”

Coming home from the bar last night had been a very oddly quiet experience. They’d carpooled with Stiles and Heather. Heather had been frosty, but Kira had been the Kitsune ice queen… to Stiles. It was only after they’d dropped them off Heather and Stiles at their townhouse did Scott find out why. Kira had seen Stiles kiss Derek. Scott was only surprised it had taken this long for it to happen. Kira had not been impressed with that argument. She liked Heather. She'd been the one who had welcomed her into the pack in the void of Derek's absence. Scott loved her too. Heather was a real sweet girl. Stiles and Heather together were solid. But, they had none of the inherent fire of Stiles and Derek. A connection that never seemed to sway despite Stiles' repeated denials over the years that he was over him. He’d seen the way he listened when Lydia and Parrish talked with Malia about him. The way Stiles looked at Derek. The way Derek looked at him in return.

“Um. So.”

Tension filled Scott’s shoulder’s sentences that started with ‘um and so’ from Stiles never ended well. It was a probably a good thing if Stiles left Heather. Especially since--

“I proposed to Heather and she said yes.”

“You did _what_?!” Scott shouted popping his head back out from where he’d trying to fix Melissa’s sink.

Stiles shrugged trying to look nonchalant and failing. “I’m getting married.”

“But, you kissed Derek.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “Wh----… What?” He flailed running a hand through his hair.

“No… No, I didn’t---“

Scott dropped his chin and eyed him disappointed. “Stiles.”

He waited and then Stiles wilted. “I, … How do you know that?!”

“Kira saw you.”

“Oh. My. God.” Stiles’ other hand came up to his head in shock. “Does everyone know?”

Scott put down the tool he'd been using and pushed himself up. Wiped his hand on his mother dishtowel. “Not yet… but they will. It’s a small town.”

“Heather—“

“Oh, we’ll never tell her.” Scott shrugged. “But, Lydia and Parrish, yeah, they’ll find out.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Stiles?”

Dropping his hand down, Stiles took a deep calming breath. “What?”

 “You’re getting married.”

 A genuine please smile crossed Stiles' face. “Yeah. I mean, yeah.”

Leaping over the toolbox Scott bear hugged Stiles hard. “Congratulations buddy.” Then he leaned back and said with sudden concern, “Are you really sure this is what you want? That _she_ is what you want?”

Stepping back, Stiles shifted up to sit on the kitchen bench and nodded emphatically. “Yeah, of course, it’s.. I mean I wasn’t planning it you know, but it…”

Scott’s eyebrows drew together and he frowned. “You didn’t plan it? Stiles--”

“Well, no.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his concern. “I don’t think you need to one hundred percent plan a proposal.”

“I did.”

Stiles gave him a thumbs up gesture. “That’s because you’re you, buddy, I like to be more spontaneous.”

“Kira liked that plan.”

“Plan a what?” Melissa McCall said walking into the kitchen. “Stiles off the bench.”

Slipping off the bench Stiles shrugged and then grinned. “I’m getting married.”

Melissa dropped the bag of groceries and only Scott’s quick reflexes saved them. “STILES?!”

Watching them hug it out made Scott grin, but it faded as he thought about the suddenness of the proposal in line with Derek’s recent return and after what Kira saw between the two of them. He so hoped Stiles knew what he was doing and that this wouldn’t end with broken hearts all round.

 

******

 

Slipping into the McCall house to drop off the file Melissa had requested Derek realized with surprise that there was an impromptu party going on in the kitchen. He’d only been going to drop off the folder on the front hall table, but now he felt oddly like he was intruding on a family moment. He wondered if the Sherriff had finally given in and proposed to Melissa.

“This is so amazing.” Melissa’s voice wafted loudly down the hall. “I can’t believe, our boy’s finally become a man.”

It was Scott’s next words that stopped him in his tracks.

“Yeah, Stiles,” Scott laughed, “You’re finally doing it becoming a married man. Welcome to the club, bro.”

Derek looked down at his feet willing them to move backward and out the front door. He was definitely intruding. His feet remained stubbornly frozen.

“Oh shut up.” Stiles laughed.

“She said yes that’s all that matters.” Melissa crowed. “She’s here for dinner, right?”

“Of course,” Stiles agreed amiably. “She’s gonna be so mad that I told you without her.”

Feeling the prickling sensation of eyes on him Derek looked up to see the Sherriff in the doorway of the kitchen.

Derek opened his mouth to say something to apologize for crashing what was obviously a family moment. But, his voice had vanished. He’d kissed Stiles last night. Stiles had kissed him back. He’d thought that it meant something. That it was the beginning of something new. But, apparently not.

 _‘I have to find Heather’_.

Stiles was now engaged, but not to him. Apparently they’d both had different types of epiphanies last night.

“Well, I’d say words going to get out pretty fast.” The Sherriff said meeting Derek’s eyes with clear sympathy and Derek didn’t know what to do if he should he leave. He shuffled back a step.

He was too late, though when Stiles appeared suddenly next to him in the doorway. “Oh, come on, Dad. Let—“ Stiles said. For an awfully drawn moment, Derek met Stiles gaze and Stiles' face twisted fleetingly with what emotion Derek couldn’t be sure. Guilt? Regret? Empathy? “Derek?” His voice was rough with surprise.

“Um, hey—“ Derek said, his own voice suddenly working without his permission.

“Derek just got here.” The Sherriff said cutting in.

Derek’s eyes snapped to the Sherriff’s. He was apparently giving him an out. Derek nodded and took it. “That’s right.”

“Derek?” Scott said his voice welcome and unfriendly all at once as he peered over the Stilinski family shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

Shrugging helplessly, Derek never felt more like an outsider than he did at this moment. It was a strange feeling after so long to be reminded of the fact that he had no family and it cut like a blade.

It was Melissa who barreling through the men broke some of the tension. “Oh, thank god you’re here,” She said, “Do you have the file?”

Derek pointed to the table and the file. “Um. So. I gotta get back—“

Melissa’s face fell. “But, you said you could stay for dinner.”

Inadvertently, Derek met Stile’s gaze and shook his head. “Oh, no that—“

“But we’re having a celebration.” Melissa wheedled oblivious to the undercurrents or choosing to ignore it.

“Melissa. No, it’s--” Stiles stepped forward quickly and Scott clamped a hand down on his shoulder forestalling any forward movement.

Melissa continued heedlessly. “Isn’t it wonderful Stiles and Heather have made it official.”

His mouth was as dry as toast Derek smiled. “Wow. That’s. Congratulations.”

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Thanks.”

He jingled his keys in his hands, “ But, I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I’d … I’ve got another shift.’

Melissa’s eyes widened aghast. “It’s your day off.”

“It’s okay.”

“But, Derek, just because—“

“It 's fine,” Derek said firmly, this was familiar territory with Melissa. Her telling him off for his long hours and lack of work life balance. This almost made him feel like he had his mom back. “It’s fine. Terry had the family thing.”

“Terry just had a holiday—“

“Honeymoon to Bora, Bora.” Derek countered if his voice tripped on the word honeymoon no one seemed to notice. “Don’t worry about me,” His eyes unwittingly found Stiles, who was still staring at him like he had no idea what to do. Swiftly saying his goodbyes, he left closing the door behind him with a soft thud. He forced himself to keep moving forward, down the stoop and back to his car.

He damned his werewolf hearing abilities when he heard Scott and Stiles whispering.

“It’s better he finds out now.” Scott consoled.

“His face—“ Stiles’ voice was full of what oddly sounded like regret to his ears.

“Stiles, he’s not your problem anymore. Don’t worry about him. Focus on your fiancée, remember her?”

“Yeah…. you’re right, man. You’re right.”

The finality in his tone made Derek rest his head against the top of his car for a long moment. He’d had knife wounds that hurt less than this. Fuck. He shook himself and sighed deeply pulling out his phone ready to call Parrish to see if they could grab a drink after his shift.

A familiar voice stopped him. “Yo! Derek! Wait.”

Stiles had followed him. He turned pasting on a smile and without thought said what had been running through his brain. “It’s okay.”

 “… are you okay?”

“I’ve had knife wounds that were worse,” Derek shrugged, “but I guess you know that so—“

“Come on, it’s just…” Stiles stepped forward placating. “You can’t be… last night was just… was just…”

 _Was just_ … that kiss had been a ‘ _just’_. Jesus. “Was just?... _Just_ , what?” Derek taunted. Stiles flinched. “You kissed me, Stiles. You. Kissed. Me. I didn’t imagine that, did I? ”

“I know.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, tearing at it. “I know, I know that.” He rolled a shoulder clearly floundering.

“You didn’t have to propose to send me a message.” Derek gripped the car keys tight in a white knuckle grip. They cut into his palm.

“Proposing to her had nothing to do with you or us. It’s just…” He grimaced at his word choice again.

“Just?” That word again. Just. Derek was beginning to hate that word. “Just, weird timing?” Derek finished for him.

Stiles nodded brown eyes sorrowful. “Right.”

Derek snorted scornfully. “Right. Of course.”  

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Stiles said, reflexively he moved to cross his arms across his chest, dropping his head a little and watching him with hooded eyes.

“Oh, thanks. Really.” Derek turned away, Stiles grabbed his arm forestalling him.   Derek stared down at that grip and then up at Stiles. “Why’d you really follow me? I heard you and Scott’s right. I’m not your problem anymore.”

“No. Stop. I still care all right? More than I should--”

“Then don’t marry her, Stiles!” Derek’s voice rose frustration getting the better of him. “You kissed me. You still feel the same way, I know you do. You wouldn’t have…”

“I do love her.” Stiles shook his head stepping backward and away from him shoes clicking on the pavement.

Derek took that in and then laughed bitter and doubtful. “You _do_ love her? Why don’t you _just_ …” He smiled thinly at Stiles’ flinch. “Keep telling yourself that and maybe we’ll both start to believe it.”

This time when he walked away Stiles didn’t stop him.

 

******

 


	8. Just This Once… Can I Get What I Want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to come to terms with the news of Stiles' engagement. Parrish and Stiles discuss the way things are with the case and Derek. Kira confronts Derek about the kiss he shared with Stiles and worries about her relationship with Scott. Melissa asks for help from Lydia.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Just This Once… Can I Get What I Want?**

 

**Beacon Hills**

**Derek’s Apartment**

It was Parrish who found Derek sitting in his living room after his shift staring at an open bottle of Wolfsbane while he drank from a bottle of laced scotch.

“I regret giving you a key,” Derek informed him, the words spilled out drunkenly.

“Landlord,” Parrish said.

Derek laughed. Of course, this was his fucking life. To distract himself and numb his thoughts he groped for the bottle and gulped down another long swallow of the scotch and then reached for the bottle of wolfsbane.

Parrish was quicker, scooping up the bottle he pocketed it and then winced. “Probably should’ve put the lid on first, hey?”

He held up a hand covered in purple dust. "Stay there." Shucking off his jacket, Parrish went into his kitchen to wash his hands. "Have you eaten?" He called out.

Derek shrugged. His eyes felt gritty and he could feel an emptiness in his stomach that suggested that he probably hadn't eaten in a while.

"Derek?" Parrish called over the sound of running water.

"I'm good."

Parrish wiping his hands on a dish towel appeared and then threw it back into the kitchen. "How'd you find out?"

"Doesn't matter." Morosely, Derek met Parrish gaze. “He kissed me and then proposed to her.” His voice slid over the word ‘her, his face contorting into a pained grimace.

Aghast, Parrish sat down on the coffee table. “He actually kissed you. Holy hell. Lydia was right.”

“She’s always right and don’t sound so shocked.” Derek rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“He has a girlfriend.”

Disgruntled, Derek raised his eyebrows, he always forgot what a boy scout Parrish could sometimes be. “Are you always on duty?” He asked snidely, reaching for the bottle again and just missing it as Parrish shifted it discretely just out of reach. “Because I don’t need a lecture.”

“Never in the bedroom.”

At that, Derek groaned. “Lydia must love that,”

Parrish smirked. “She does actually.” Growing serious he leaned forward and rested his palm against Derek’s forehead. “How much have you had?”

“Not enough,” Derek said, trying to stand and failing. “My legs don’t work.” He squinted at them. “Am I dying?”

Parrish laughed although his gaze flashed suddenly worried. “How much have you had?”

Derek pointed at the bottle. “That” and then he looked gestured to the Wolfsbane that dusted over the coffee table. “and a little bit of that.”

“You did Wolfsbane shots?”

“Doesn’t work otherwise,” Derek informed him dully. He pressed a fist against his heart. The lights were beginning to stream sideways, and it felt like there was a hand on his heart, squeezing. “I can’t …” He dragged in a gulping breath doubling over his chest seizing. “Fuck. It hurts.”

Parrish sighed and patted Derek’s back in sympathy. “I know it does, buddy.”

If he’d only, he’d said yes. If he’d known that asking Stiles to slow down would mean losing him, he would’ve said fuck it and just adapted. It was what Hales’ did after all. Adapt and survive. He really needed to adapt and survive, if only he could stop, "thinking" he muttered. That night in the hotel room just keeping looping through his brain like a scene from a nightmare. Stiles backing away merged with the previous night as he backed away again, this time running to Heather. "Stop...." He told himself again. The lights danced again like gaudy Christmas balls.

“What was that buddy?” Parrish gently rested a hand on Derek's shoulder, reassuring.

“What?” Derek’s head snapped up and then he groaned as his stomach rolled. “Oh fuck.”

“Trashcan.” Moving quickly Parrish grabbed the trash can from the kitchen and placed it in front of Derek just as his stomach fully rebelled. “Easy. Easy.” Parrish muttered soothingly, running a hand over his shoulders.

“I hate him.” Derek declared when he’s stomach had finally settled and he collapsed back into the couch.

“No you don’t,” Parrish eyed him sadly, returning after disposing of the trash can and handing him a glass of water. “Small sips. No, you don’t. Lydia’s gonna be so mad at me for saying this… but sometimes I wish you did.”  

"What do I do now?" Derek finally asked.

"You sit here, you drink that glass of water and we're going to watch some old baseball games I know you've got recorded."

"I hate baseball."

"Oh, I know, you do." Parrish returned easily, settling onto the sofa next to him and swiping the remote from where it sat on the coffee table. "I recorded these games, you're probably gonna pass out in about ten to fifteen minutes, I'd say,"

Derek grumbled a disjointed reply, "not gonna..." But, he rested his head back on the black plush sofa and stared up at the white embossed ceiling. "pass out..."

"Sure." Parrish agreed, turning the volume down as Derek began to fall asleep. "Sure you are."  

*****

**Beacon Hills.**

**BHPD - Patrol Car 3.**

The silence in the patrol car was strained. Parrish was in the driver’s seat, and Stiles rode shotgun like they did every second day. They had completed the morning briefing, and then not a word had been spoken between them other than the courtesy stuff about their job. Fortunately, the streets of Beacon Hills were quiet this morning. Stiles could tell that Parrish was stewing about something and Stiles could guess what it was he and Derek were close after all. Finally after three hours of the silent treatment Stiles exploded. “I love her, okay.”

“Are you asking me or telling me.” Parrish shot back not missing a beat.

Twisting around in his seat, Stiles gawked at Parrish. “What? No. Telling.” Stiles shook his head; he turned back to face the road, shoulder radio dragging against the upholstery. “Telling man. Fuck Off. I don’t need your permission, but a real 'congratulations' would be nice.” Stiles held up a hand when Parrish went to speak. “No. With Feeling.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Parrish jerked the wheel to change lanes; Stiles braced himself against the doorframe. “I didn’t realize you needed a particular fucking tone with the congratulations.”

“Do you kiss Lydia with that mouth?” Stiles sniped, feeling petty.

“Why are you so angry Stiles?” Parrish asked. “Why do you even care what I think?”

He wasn’t angry. Stiles thought. But he had been annoyed at the quiet conversation and hug that Parrish had had with Derek when he went to pick him up this morning. Derek hadn’t even acknowledged his presence and he knew it shouldn’t rankle after what had happened, but it did.

“If everyone would stop voicing their—“

“I haven’t said a word,” Parrish said frustrated. “Not one. I’m staying well out of it.”

“Really,” Stiles said spitefully. “Then forcing me to pick you up at Derek’s wasn’t picking sides?”

“He’s my friend.” Parrish returned fiercely. “Whatever he is to you, which is nothing apparently and nice work, by the way, leading him on. “ Parrish jabbed a finger into Stiles’ arm bruisingly. “But, I thought you understood. He’s my friend and he always will be. Lydia is your best friend. I get that, I don’t get between that, don’t step into my relationships.”

“Okay. Okay.” Stiles said holding up his hands in the peace gesture. “Stopping jabbing me with that finger.”

Retreating, Parrish rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Stiles crossed his arms and sighed deeply turning to watch the road. He allowed the silence to sit for three blocks before he said. “He’s not nothing to me.”

“Stiles,” Parrish said warningly.

“Whatever… I don’t need to justify… I still care.”

“Please don’t,” Parrish said simply, “It’ll be easier on everyone.”

The simple words stung. The thing was though Parrish was probably right. It would probably be better for all if he just didn’t care anymore. If only it could be that easier. There was one thing that he knew like North was true. He’d always love Derek. He’d always care. Still, he couldn’t be with him. Not after… He couldn’t risk the potential fallout if they didn’t work, again. He'd never recover. He worried at a pulled thread on his sweater and maybe that was chicken shit. Maybe it wasn't. Besides, Heather was sweet, caring, loyal. She’d been there for him when Derek hadn’t and they had built a life together that was good. Nice. They worked. Derek’s return had rocked the boat for everyone’s relationships. He was fighting with Parrish because of him. Stiles was pretty sure that he could trace all his problems in recent weeks to Derek. Some screwed up part of him wished that Derek would hop on that plane and leave again. Which wasn’t fair. Because while it would be easier for him, Derek would be alone again. Lydia had been right about that Derek needed to be back here in Beacon Hills. It was his home too.

The patrol car shot by the alley near the Irish bar and Stiles unwittingly pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips. He could still feel it. That kiss. The aching slide of it. The stubble against his cheek. The hard press of Derek against him. Burning tang of whiskey on Derek’s lips, on his.

The taste that was so different to Heather.

Oh, fuck, Heather.

Heather, who had been about to walk out the door that same night and he 'd done the one thing he could think of to make her, stay. He’d proposed. Maybe it was sudden. Maybe it wasn't. She’d found his mom’s engagement ring in his sock drawer and jumped to a conclusion that while faulty at the time ended up being a good thing.

She was good for him. He reminded himself. She was, even if she had forgotten to buy the red string. Heather cared about him. He cared about her.   Seeing an appliance store up ahead Stiles tapped the window. “Do you think we can stop for a second, I just need a few things from the shop.”

*****

**Derek’s Apartment**

Derek opened the door to find Kira standing there with two steaming mugs of takeaway coffee. It confused his frazzled hungover brain. “We’re not on are we?”

“No.” Kira shook her head. She pushed the tray into his hands and then shouldered past him. She turned back and then pulled an envelope out of her pocket. “This was on your doorstep?”

Taking the envelope, Derek placed it on the dining table and followed Kira further into the apartment. She had seated herself on his sofa, legs tucked underneath. “What’s wrong.”

“I saw you. I mean, I was going to the restroom and then the alley door was open and--” Kira was never one to beat around the bush and plunged right in that awkward way that she had.

“You saw.”

Derek sat down on the chair opposite her as Kira nodded and confessed. “Scott didn’t think I should come.”

“You told Scott.”

“I was upset.” Kira defended.

“You were upset?” Derek frowned at her. “Why? No.” He stood up and moved to the apartment window staring out at the edge of the preserve. “It doesn’t matter.”

“We’re partners, right?” Kira said slipping up beside him, staring up at him. Idly she touched the windowpane tracing a random line. “Everyday we go out in that truck and we put our lives on the line. Together.”

“Yeah.” Derek turned and leaned back resting on the edge of the window sill. “We’re partners.”

Tentatively Kira placed her hand on his arm. “ And being good partners means it’s about trust.”

The rebuke was apparent. Derek nodded. “I get it.”

Kira gave him a gentle smile. “After everything with Scott… and I kinda went a little… it’s just Stiles and Heather were there for me… not that—“ She scrunched her face up and shrugged. “Malia was too; I guess the whole pack was except Lydia who was you know--"

“It’s okay.” Derek tried to keep the quiet hurt out of his tone. It honestly shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Kira was loyal to Stiles first. Even though Kira and he rode in the truck together; that they worked first line together. It made sense. He’d been gone a long time and besides it had always been Scott and Stiles. Stiles and Scott. They were brothers. Family was important, Derek understood that; it was why he felt compelled to give Peter another chance. Stiles was Kira’s family.

At his resigned tone, Kira’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh… no. No, Derek… You’re my friend too. But, Scott and Stiles, are just…”

“It’s honestly fine.” Derek said again, he gave her a serious look and offered her the out it was clear she wanted. “I’ll understand if you want a new partner.” Planting his feet Derek stood up, but Kira pushed him back down with a firm hand so his back thumped back and hit the glass with a hard crack. They both winced. They could see it beginning to splinter. "I said it’s okay, Kira. Don’t worry about it.”

“I do. Worry about it!” Kira’s eyes were wild. “You’re my partner, Derek. I don’t want to ride anyone else..." She swallowed. "With anyone else!” She added hastily.

“Then, what?” Derek waggled his eyebrows at her confused.

“I meant work with someone else.” Kira clarified.

“Okay.” He looked and raised his eyebrows. "Is that it?"

Taking a deep breath, Kira gathered herself. She tugged at her ear as she tried to compose her thoughts, “I just wanted to make sure that you knew that Stiles had it tough letting you go the first time and he’s moved on. Don’t wreck that for him, okay?”

Huh. It had been hard for him? At least Stiles had still had his friends. He’d had the pack. Derek had moved towns and lost everyone except three of his supposed friends and while he argued that it was better that he wasn’t around, it still hurt. He’d understood. Of course, he did. Yet, the sudden absence of them all had reminded him, just like now, that Kira’s first concern would always be Stiles and while they worked together, that was it. It was a good reminder.

“Message received. Got it.” Derek pushed past Kira towards the front door. “Thanks for dropping by.”

“We’re are still partners, right?” Kira said concerned. She peered up at him worry clouding her.

“For the moment,” Derek agreed and at Kira’s crestfallen expression sighed. “Just… “He winced internally. How he hated that fucking word now. “Just… It’s fine.”

“Scott told me I shouldn’t say anything,” Kira said plaintively, “But I just thought… that’s it’s better to be honest, right? Honest, that I’m uncomfortable. I mean…it’s just... He’s engaged to her, okay, that’s big, all right? I know that you and he...”

”Jesus. It was just a fucking kiss.”

”Maybe, not,” Kira’s bit her lip and briefly Derek could see a flash in her eyes as her Fox surged up. ”Marriage is tough, okay? It’ so tough and it takes honest commitment, even when...” She shook her head something occurring to her. ”I'm their matron of honor.”

Derek blinked taking that in taken aback. ”Congratulations.”

Kira wrung her hands and sighed. “Thanks.”

“It’—“

Kira pressed a hand over his mouth. “Shut it,” She said, then removed her hand quickly. “I’m sorry. I'm not a good friend, am I.”

Scuffing his shoe at the door frame, Derek rolled a shoulder. “Yeah, you are.” She was Stiles friend first and foremost. He wouldn’t forget that again, and it was good that Stiles had people like Kira in his corner.

Kira’s eyes flashed. “No. I’m not.” Her hands clenched and twisted again. “I should’ve just—“

“Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.” He assured firmly.

“Really?” Kira waited until he nodded before she relaxed slightly. “Okay. Okay. Well, I won’t stay.” Derek refused to mention that he’d led her back to the front door. “I’ve got to pick up the groceries.”

Saying his goodbyes Derek closed the front door and then walking back into the kitchen collapsed into the closer chair. Fuck this was going to so awkward and painful. He’d put his heart on the line and been burned. He didn’t know what to do and took a deep shuddering breath, swallowing past the lump in his throat, Derek grabbed his jacket. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to talk to his mother.

*****

**Beacon Hills Tea House “Fielding”**

Seated in on a plush sofa in the local Tea House Lydia absently drew on a blank notepad. She was free drawing still trying to figure out why she was having visions and what the auditory sounds meant. She wondered what kind of Bell admitted that sound. When her drawing only became the tree roots, she drew a harsh line through it and ripped the paper off the notepad. Scrunching it up, she threw it into a nearby trashcan.

“Lydia?” She looked up and Melissa McCall standing there. She was holding a large cake box. A box that size meant only one thing, “Celebrating?”

Melissa smiled and demurred. “I’ll let Stiles tell you, officially. But…” She looked around and then opened the lid of the box to show Lydia.

It had one simple word written on a large buttercream cake. “Congratulations!”

“He proposed!” Lydia concluded rapidly. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s kinda sudden, I suppose.” Melissa agreed conspiratorially.

“I’ll say.” She couldn’t keep the vehemence out of her tone. “Sorry, I just thought he was going to wait or something…” It was a lie and Melissa could tell, but she let it go.

Not so subtly Melissa glanced around slid into the seat opposite trying to be casual and failing. “Can you help me with something?” Melissa’s brow was furrowed with apparent worry. While her temples had gone a little gray at the edges, there was strong, vibrant youthfulness to her that Lydia envied.

“Sure…” Lydia answered immediately. “What’s wrong?”

The relief of Melissa’s face was palpable. “It’s about Scott.”

*****

**Vet Clinic**

Washing out the cages was Scott’s least favorite job at the clinic. A click of heels made him look up. Lydia huddled in a bright blue coat was walking towards him holding a tray of coffees.

“He proposed?” She asked, waiting for Scott to turn off the tap and then gave the coffee to him.

Scott breathed in the scent of the hazelnut coffee, his favorite. “Sure. Apparently, it was spontaneous.”

“Spontaneous.” Lydia rolled the word out, like it was dirty.

“Yep.” Scott took a long slow drag of the coffee. It burned down his throat-scalding hot. He glanced at her eyeing her. “Any more dreams?”

He sank back against the rough brick of the clinic, watching Lydia.

“No,” She said finally.

“Think it’s connected?” Adding when she arched an eyebrow at him. “To us, to Derek being back.”

“Stiles does.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Lydia responded eyes hooded and dark as she looked at him over her coffee. She leaned against the wall next to him, and he reached out to grab her hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“You had a job.” Scott hadn’t held it against her that she couldn’t return while she’d been on the book tour. There had been nothing that anyone could’ve done at the time. “Besides, I had Stiles.”

“And Kira.”

Scott started, and Lydia’s hand clenched around his holding him a place. “Yeah, of course. Yeah, I had Kira.” She’d done everything. She’d nurse him. She hadn’t complained. Not once and he’d seen the toll it had taken on her, his injury, but he hadn’t cared. At first, he’d had barely been able to look at her without seeing the flash of the blade coming towards her and Kira frozen. The Fae had wanted her. Wanted her head. It had lured them, and cocky and self-assured they’d taken the bait.

“You two seem …” She paused and then said, “Distant.”

“We’re fine.” It was a lie. There were nights he was still sleeping on the sofa. He still snapped at her and for some reason he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. Even this morning after she’d been determined to see Derek to talk to him about it. He’d yelled at her in a way that he would never have before… It scared him. It made him feel like he was becoming his father.

“Scott.” Lydia’s voice was arid and not amused. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not… we’re fine. We’re okay.” He stared down at her hand where it was clenched around his, “She thinks I blame her.”

“I gotta be honest with you babe, I believe you do too.”

Aghast, Scott tried to pull away from Lydia, who held his hand still firmly in hers. “Of course, I don’t.” He tripped over the words. Even he could tell that he didn’t believe it. Gently, Lydia stepped towards him and gave him a hug. It was only then that Scott noticed that he was close to tears. “I don’t. But, I…”

He couldn’t voice the way he deep down resented the injury. Because none of this would have happened in the first place if she hadn’t been ensnared by the Fae. He tried to remind himself that she hadn’t taken the precautions. They’d both been a little too reckless. Taking it for granted that they’d win this round with the supernatural. It had been so long since they been tested in that regard.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Lydia advised, holding him through his epiphany. He could feel the heat of the takeaway coffee cup at his back. “It’s only human.” She smiled at him testing him with the word. “To be angry at the person that caused it.”

“She’d be dead if it weren't for me,” Scott answered, and that was it, wasn’t it. The bone-deep fear and realization that Kira was vulnerable. That despite being a superhuman, supernatural, she was fragile. Delicate like Allison. She could still be hurt or worse. They all could. None of them were immune. He gasped finding it hard to breath. “Oh my god, she’d be dead.”

“Scott,” Lydia breathed out fiercely. “She didn't die. She’s right here, and you better start fighting for her, find a way to forgive her.”

“What if I can’t?”

“What if you can?” Lydia responded. She pulled away and stepped back, taking another sip of her coffee. “And you didn’t try?”

*****

**The Beacon Hills Cemetery**

The Beacon Hills cemetery was frost covered. Ice veins crawled over the headstones. It was beautiful. Stark. Derek found his way by memory through the headstones. He hadn’t been here in years. He shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and hunched forward a little into the wind.

There were blue flowers on his mother’s grave. Placed in a freshly potted plant. Derek crouched down and fingered the leaves. His fingers burned at the touch. He sat back and frowned in surprise, wiping his hand on his jeans.

“Wolfsbane,” He muttered shocked. Derek stared at the stark cemetery and the headstones and found no one watching. Returning his gaze to the grave, he saw the card.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF A GREAT LADY.

He plucked the card out of the pot and pocketed it. He felt unsettled. On Edge. His nerves on dangled and it was stupid to be on the verge of crying from finding a fucking plant at his mother’s grave. But, he was because… because “Stiles is engaged, mom.” Derek murmured and then hung his head gathering himself. “And I don’t know what to do…”

He ran his finger over her name. “God, I miss you. If you could, just give me some kind of sign. Something that could tell me what to do… I just, I just really appreciate it.”

Throwing back his head he stared upwards uncaring of the tear that fell and then he saw it. The floating streamer connected to a balloon. It danced on the wind currents and then as he watched landed on the last place he expected.

Allison Argent’s grave.

Oh.

For a moment, he just stared. Flabbergasted at the symmetry. He was reminded again of the beautiful brown eyed girl who had worn her heart on her sleeve. Reminded of her sacrifice for Lydia, for Stiles, and for the people that she loved and that’s when Derek realized his mother had found a way to speak to him after all and he smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

*****

**Beacon Hills Police Station**

Derek found him as he knew he would in the Beacon County Sherriff’s locker room. It always took him a moment to adjust to the smell of sweat and fear laced with hope.

Stiles was humming under his breath as he did when he was working through a problem unwrapping his holster from his hip and placing it in the locker.

Derek had a feeling he knew exactly what his problem was, it was him. But, he had come here to try and make things easier. Not worse. Well, he amended, hopefully not worse. His heartbeat pounded in his head echoing like a shower of rain on a steel roof. He took a deep, shaky breath.

He could do this.

He could get through this like he’d practiced in the car on the way here.

He could let Stiles go.

The creak of the heavy door swinging shut made Stiles look up, and he froze in surprise “Uh.. hi. Hey. What are you doing here?”

Derek’s heart sank a little at the way Stiles closed his locker with a firm hand squaring his shoulders reading himself for a fight. He’d become a problem for Stiles. He was here to fix that.

“Derek, listen—“

Derek cut him off and held up a hand. “No. Wait… just hear me out.”

Stiles closed his eyes and shaking his head “Derek, there’s no point, I’m with--“

“Please? You know I’m not much for small talk.”

A brief smile flittered across Stiles face and Derek stepped cautiously closer.

“Let me say this…” He stepped hesitantly closer again and Stiles' eyes snapped open. Derek wasn't sure if it was from his sudden proximity or his tone. Which sounded rough and fragile. He took another breath trying to ignore the way his heart continued to just beat like a frantic drum.

Stiles gestured with his hand, go ahead and Derek nodded. He reached out to touch Stiles' hand and hesitated at the way Stiles grimaced pained. Immediately, Derek dropped his hand then suddenly unsure but gathered his resolve. Everything in him felt like he was walking on broken glass in slow motion, but he could do this. For Stiles, he could do this.

“Okay.” Derek smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay …” He paused looking away from Stiles, attempting to find the phrase to describe his epiphany in the cemetery. “…It's funny, I guess. How things work out. I paid a visit to my mom and it's --”

“Oh, Jesus, Derek—“Stiles said reaching out to grab his hand. “You don’t have to do this. Stop.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Derek murmured, turning his hand over and grasping Stiles hand in his.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m… stopping. Well—“ Derek laughed and if his voice cracked on the uptick neither of them commented. He cleared his throat and wound their fingers together. Stiles expressive eyes were beginning to shine, and Derek pushed himself to say it. He had too for both of them.

“We both know that I love you.” He tightened his hold on Stiles to stop him from saying anything when he made a move to speak. “I do. I guess I always have, even when we weren’t anything, I still…” Derek stared at their clasped hands and sighed. “But, talking to my mom reminded me of what sacrifice is and that the greatest act of love is sacrifice and if Heather is what you actually want… then… ”

“Derek.” Stiles’ rasped gutted. "Derek..."

“And it’s gonna …” He paused, licking dry lips and forced the words out. “What I’m saying here, is if you want me to let go. Then I will.” He shrugged feeling Stiles’ hand tighten around his, unconsciously holding on. “I’ll let go. I'll bury it. It’s what my family does – “ Derek's smile was threaded with sorrow as he finally looked up and met Stiles’ eyes which were shining with tears. He couldn’t finish the words and suddenly the words he practiced in the car, but how they sacrificed for those that cared refused to come out, but from look on Stiles’ face he understood. “Anyway… Just… as your friend, I guess, I’m telling you, be happy, okay? That’s all I want for you.” He raised Stiles hand kissed the palm and then released him stepping back.

Stiles' hand remained there for a half a second frozen before he dropped it. The silence was definite, and Derek nodded. Turning, he did the only thing his shredded heart could cope with at the moment. He fled.

He didn’t wait to hear if Stiles had anything to say in return. He couldn’t. After all Stiles had said enough when he put the engagement ring on Heather’s finger. If Derek could’ve looked back, he would’ve seen Stiles sitting down shakily on the wooden bench and burying his head in his hands muttering a soft broken “Fuck.”

******


	9. Let Go, Let Go, Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott find Derek disorientated in the woods. Meanwhile the Ladies of Beacon Hills get locked in Lydia's Lab at the University.

CHAPTER NINE:

Let Go, Let Go, Let Go

*****

**Stiles Townhouse**   
**Beacon HIlls**

Absently, a sleep deprived Stiles watched Scott take in the murder board in Stiles’ home office which was now covered in press clippings about the body found in the woods, the grooves in the trees. He rolled his shoulders and feeling the muscles pull and tense as he tried to release some of the built-up tension. Dressed in casually, in his khaki slacks and black sweater to fight off the chill in the air.

“So?” He asked finally in the silence. He just spent the last twenty minutes sharing what had happened with Derek the day before and Scott had yet to say anything as he’d been distracted by the murder board.

He hadn’t slept much in the past twenty-four hours. Heather had been working overtime before she had a rostered day off and arrived home late the previous evening. She had been still asleep when he’d checked in on her. Head hidden under a mountain of pillows. He squinted his eyes tiredly at the board. She was becoming a little obsessed with planning the engagement party that it worried him. She wanted it to be a declaration to everyone… to Derek most likely. It was beginning to make Stiles uncomfortable. Made him feel less like her lover and more like a prize. He cared for her. He hadn’t lied to anyone about that and Derek’s return had only seemingly highlighted the ways that she fit into his life.

He watched Scott finger one of the photos and Stiles frowned in frustration. He was struggling to see an apparent connection between the body and Derek being back and Lydia’s vision. A bell. All of it seemed to have no correlation. It reminded of the weird sacrifices that had awoken the Nementon years ago and to top it all off Peter Hale was being released within the week. His Dad had caught him as he’d been about to left the Station the previous day giving him the joyful news. It had made him, despite everything, really wanted to check in on Derek. To see if he was okay. But… after everything. He honestly wasn’t sure it was his place anymore. “So?” He said again and then sighed. “Scott? What do you think?”

Scott glanced at him and the board and then whistled. “He actually said that… That he was letting it all go?”

Stiles pulled his gaze away from the board with effort and then slowly nodded.

Scott sat down beside him. “Whoa.”

Twirling some string in his hands, Stiles shrugged. “It’s good, though… It feels like…”

“Closure?” Scott asked.

Stiles twisted his lips. Not exactly. He and Derek would never quite be over. He knew that. A connection would always be there between them, a thread of feeling and whether that was friendship, attraction, love. “I guess, more than…”

“More than last time.” Scott agreed, he clapped a warm hand briefly on his shoulder. “You had been …” He stood up and moved over to the board, hand trailing over the groove pictures. “Man you were lucky you got through graduation if Kira had told you that she saw him…” Scott abruptly trailed off pulling the image off the board.

“She what?” Stiles asked standing as well. “She what?”

“Huh?” Scott frowned at him.

“Told me what?”

“What?” Scott echoed confused glancing between Stiles and the photo.

“What?” Frustrated, Stiles grabbed the picture from him trying to find what made Scott so concerned. “What?”

“Does that look like a spiral?”

“Yeah Lydia and I thought it …. What did you say?” He stared down at the photo. Scott was right. It did sort of look like a revenge spiral. Something they hadn’t been seen since the Alpha pack… since Laura had been found dead. “Oh my God.” He’d been so blind, he’d been so focused it looking like the Hale sigil he hadn’t seen the most obvious clue.

“Can you show me where it was found?”

Stiles grabbed his jacket and motioned for Scott to do the same then paused in remembrance. “Hey, man…Kira saw what?”

“She thought she saw Derek at your graduation, but you were all…” Scott made a disgusted face and Stiles pushed him good-naturedly. “It’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles agreed following Scott out the door. Derek had mentioned it, but to know that Kira had seen him and not said anything felt like a new betrayal. She had seen Derek at his police graduation. She had known how much he’d been hoping for him to be there and yet she hadn’t said a word. After everything… Stiles really didn’t know how he felt about that. If he’d known, would things have been different? He couldn’t… He pictured Derek shouldering out of the locker room the previous day and felt his stomach swoop in remembered heartache.

_If you want me to let, go. Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll bury it._

Scott gave him a puzzled look apparently hearing the stutter in his heartbeat. Stiles just shrugged it off. It was too raw and he couldn’t share all of it with Scott yet. If he ever would. With resolve and effort he pushed it aside to focus on more pressing matters there was a murderer out there.

His phone beeped a message from Heather. They’d only just gotten engaged and now she wanted to throw a massive engagement party. Well, with his encouragement. He wanted it out there that he had moved on. He was putting a stake in the ground. If he could still taste the shadow of Derek well, that was between him and the face in the mirror.

“How’s the shoulder?” Stiles asked as he kicked his jeep 4.0 into gear. Black, not Blue anymore. He had felt he needed a change.

Scott rolled and flexed his hand. “Like I said man, it’s as good as new.”

****

**The Preserve**   
**Beacon Hills**

The cold ground seeped into the bare skin of his back and for the third time in as many days Derek woke to stare at icy blue frost bitten trees reaching up toward a steel blue sky.

Staggering to his feet Derek caught himself against the rough bark of the tree nearby pausing to gather his equilibrium. He stared at the ground. Thankful that he was wearing sweats at least and that he’d contained the howl that wanted to break free.

He didn’t understand why this was happening. Derek rubbed a hand over his face trying and failing to gain his bearings. A twig cracking nearby made him look up startled.

He did not expect to see when his eyes focused Scott and Stiles staring at him dumbfounded.

A full body shiver wracked his body as they all stared at one another. It was still frosty and cold.

Finally breaking the tableau, Stiles stepped forward. “Derek?”

Derek opened his mouth to speak and surprisingly then found that he had nothing to say. He couldn’t explain this. He squared his shoulders and released his hold of the tree trunk.

He moved a step forward and then another shiver jolted through him and whatever he was going to say was lost as he crumpled to the ground his legs betraying him. He felt weird. His mouth tasted like cotton.

“Shit!” Stiles surged forward trying to catch him.

Scott moving faster if a fraction behind caught most of his weight.

“Easy.” Stiles murmured, who wrapped his arm around his waist and halting Derek from crashing face forward into the dirt.

“Mn…” Derek swallowed. “I'm all right.” He tried to move away from Stiles and ignored the hurt in his expression at the move.   His feet skidded out into the muddy ground as he attempted to rebalance and hold himself up.

Stiles' arms tightened around him. “Yeah,” He drawled, not impressed. “You’re fine.”

Derek felt Scott’s hand on his arms pulling and saw with surprise the black veins tunneling up his arms, the relief immediate. He licked his lips and repeated. “I’m fine.”

“Scott?” Stiles asked, ignoring Derek for the moment.

“I don’t know,” Scott replied, his other hand checking him over, pulling at his eyes to check their dilation and the whites. “It’s not… Derek? Do you think you can try standing again?” To Stiles he said. “We’ve got to get him warm.”

Derek nodded. With effort the three of them managed to stand Derek's arms draped over both of their shoulders, theirs looped around his waist. He had the sense that both men were talking to him trying to gain his attention, his focus… but all he could see was…

Laura’s resting place.

He stared aghast. Because it looked like there was blood seeping up to the surface of the matted leaves and soil. He recoiled a full body jolt that had both Stiles and Scott staggering trying to keep him upright. His breath was coming hard and fast, gaze transfixed on the blood. There was so much of it. It was pooling now in large puddles of bubbling red molasses. He shuddered.

“Derek?!”

A slap across the face drew him back to the present. He met Stiles’ fierce gaze briefly before it moved beyond him back to the grave… and oh… holy god was that a hand pushing out of the blood covered soil?

Determinedly, Stiles gripped his chin and forced him to look back at him, stepping in front of his field vision. “Derek. Look at me. Okay? Whatever you’re seeing… it’s not real, all right?”

Derek couldn’t focus. The blood was living thing. Viscous and it was beginning to crawl up the trees surrounding them.

Thwack. Another hard slap.

“Stiles.” Scott murmured, now holding most of Derek’s weight “Let’s take him to the Clinic.”

Derek blinked focusing on Stiles.

“Yeah, that’s it, babe. Focus on me.” There was real panic in Stiles’ gaze and Derek wanted to reassure him.

“Stiles?” Derek felt confused. Drugged.

Stiles grip moved from its hard bruising grip on his chin to slide around to the nape of his neck, supporting and comforting. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Derek’s head fell forward and it rested on Stiles’ shoulder as he finally lost his battle with consciousness. “Do you see her?”

“See who? See who, Babe?” Stiles’ response was lost to him as darkness gripped him. “Derek!”

******

**Lydia's Lab**   
**Beacon Hills University**

Lydia was matching genetic markers and jotting down when Danny slid into the seat next to her. “Have you heard from Jackson?”

The name was a blast from the past and Lydia paused in the middle of her work. “Have you?”

Danny shook his head. “Not really.”

“Which means yes.” Lydia put down her notebook. “How is he?”

“He’s Jackson.” Danny gave her a dimpled smiled. “He’s still a dick.”

Lydia stood and began to stack up her notebooks and decided not to follow that comment down. She frowned. “How’s your research going?”

“Well, I’m stuck.” Danny sighed. She’d figured. Every time Danny got stuck with a problem, he came to talk to her. It was nice.

“What’s the problem?” Lydia pulled off her lab coat and tucked it over the back of the chair.

“Influencing a telluric current –“ Danny held up a hand. “Never mind.”

Lydia watched him for a moment. Observing him. There was a flicker of loneliness in his eyes. She touched his shoulder. “If you miss him. Call.”

Danny took that on board the way he did all information with a smile and a nod. “Yeah. You’re right.” Lydia couldn’t help her smirk. Danny matched it. “Don’t say it.”

Danny stood and pushed his chair back in. “I’ll let you get back to work.” Exiting he walked straight into Malia, who was leading Kira backward into the room.

“What the hell?” Danny exclaimed.

Malia eyed him with disinterest and slight annoyance. “Excuse you.”

Kira was holding pizza boxes. “We need a girl’s lunch.”

Lydia smiled delighted it froze slightly as she watched Heather enter a step behind Kira. Danny raised his eyebrows questioning. Lydia waved him out. “Heather.”

“Lydia.”

Heather clearly hadn't forgiven her for their discussion at the opening. Lydia loved Stiles, but sometimes she couldn’t see what he saw in Heather. She was just too nice. Too passive aggressive.

Danny waved at them and then shut the door. “Can’t have the students seeing their Professor with pizza.”

*****

**Vet Clinic**   
**Beacon HIlls**

“How are you feeling now?” Scott snapped off his latex gloves and eyed Derek with a severe stare. Derek shrugged. He was seated on a stool beside the metal table and Scott had taken the one next to him. It had only been about three hours since they had found him in the preserve dazed and confused.   Derek was now conscious, irritable and trying to get out the door. Scott was worried. He hadn’t seen Derek like this ever and that was saying something. He touched Derek’s arm trying to sense pain levels and found it only to be normal. Manageable. Scott exchanged a look with Stiles. Stiles who had not left Derek’s side since they had found him. They’d have to talk about that later. “How many times since?”

Derek thumbed at the jersey that he’d borrowed from Scott. “Twice. Three including today.”

Scott was not impressed. “You’ve sleepwalked into the preserve. To your sister’s grave, at least three times and you didn’t think it might be worth mentioning to someone sooner?”

Stiles snorted. “In his defense we did—“

“I’m fine.” Derek’s icy glare was like a flashback to the first time they had met. Neither Scott nor Stiles was intimidated by it anymore.

Stiles raised a hand from where he was leaning against the clinic walls. “I think that’s open up to debate.”

“I’m fine.” Derek stood and his balance wavered. He gripped the metal table for support.

Scott pushed Derek easily back down into the chair. He held up a hand to Stiles, who had risen abruptly at Derek’s attempt to stand. “Okay. Well, let’s do a blood test to be sure.” He reached for a syringe.

Derek balked, his face turning to white.

“Derek?” Stiles murmured.

Derek clenched his jaw and then blinked fast resolutely shaking away whatever had made him startle.

Scott frowned at him surprised to find him so against syringes. “You’re an EMT.”

“It’s …. “ Derek glanced between them both and then held out his arm. He wanted to get away from them. To get away from Stiles. Scott couldn’t blame him. He gave Stiles a nod, get out of here. With apparent reluctance, Stiles left the room.

Derek gave him a look. “You didn’t—“

“He was making you uncomfortable,” Scott said quietly.

Derek looked away, his jaw muscle tensing.

“Derek,” Scott said quietly

“Scott.” Derek cut in. “Just take the fucking blood, then I can leave you both alone.”

Drawing the blood with quick, practiced movements, Scott raised an eyebrow. “You know he still cares.” He paused, watching as the blood filled the vial. “We all do.”

“Sure.” The dry doubtful tone that Derek gave him hurt. Scott couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t exactly been a good friend to him these past few years. Kira had been right about that. But, Stiles was his brother and if he had to pick, he’d always pick Stiles first. “You finished?”

Scott nodded. Placing the blood samples on his tray.

Derek was gone before he could verbalize a response the door thudding shut after him.

Stiles repaired holding a tray of coffees five minutes later and Scott gave him a rueful smile. “He’s gone.”

Stiles did a double-take glancing about the room. “You let him leave?!”

“He’s a grown man,” Scott answered, cleaning up the equipment. “Can you give these to Lydia to analyze?” Moving to pick up the blood sample, he stared at the tray puzzled, it had been right there. “Right before he went down, who do you think he was…”

Stiles gave a soft, thoughtful look. “My guess? Laura probably.” He then frowned. “What sample?”

Scott’s eyes widened. “Derek took it.”

Stiles ducked back out towards the front door even though it was useless. Derek had vanished. “Shit.”

*****

**Beacon Hills - University**

Corridors and hallways of polished sandstone floors and white walls made finding his way to Lydia's lab a trying experience. Still feeling sluggish, he hadn’t been in the best frame of mind to be hit on by freshman student’s men and women.

He sighed and thumped on the door to Lydia’s lab and without thinking pushed the door open. He was confronted by Lydia, Malia, Kira and Heather seated on the floor with pizza boxes in front of them.

At his entry, Malia leaped to her feet and rushed forward trying to catch the door, but it snuck closed on him before he could grab it in time his reflexes still off.

“Shit,” Malia said, leaning against the door.

Derek rolled his eyes at them – waiting for an explanation.

“Sorry, babe.” Lydia rose gracefully, shoes now discarded and made her way over. “It’s jamming. We can’t unlock it from the inside.”

Kira held up a slice of pizza. “Want some?”

Derek’s stomach rolled at the thought.

Concerned, Lydia placed a hand on his arm. “You okay?”

“Sure.” A lie.

Lydia raised her eyebrows detecting the lie but didn’t comment. Derek tried the handle on the door edging Malia out of the way. She gave him an irritated look and let him try and fail to open it.

“It won’t budge and these doors are fireproof,” Malia told him. She held up her hand claws popping out, “These don’t work.”

Lydia sighed. “I’m really regretting listening to Stiles now.”

“Oh really," Heather said dryly, “Were proofing this room seems like a bad idea to you. I think—“

“Yes, yes. We know you say that--” Malia glared at Heather. “The sun shines out of his –“

“Malia!” Kira shot to her feet, pizza crust in hand.

Derek glanced around the room searching for an exit and finding none. Feeling dizzy, Derek sat down on a nearby stool. “You mean we’re trapped.” His eyes unerringly found Heather’s. He was stuck in here with the woman Stiles had chosen over him.

“Before you ask,” Kira said swallowing a mouthful of the cold pizza. “The phones aren’t working and this room has some kind of weird thing where cells don’t work.”

Heather looked away from Derek and met Lydia’s gaze. “Was that Stiles too?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “No. That one was me.”

“Perfect,” Derek muttered to Lydia.

“It could be worse.” Heather reasoned.

“How.” He couldn’t stop the vitriol in his tone and in speaking to her.

Heather flinched at his tone. “We could have no food, no shelter, and no water.”

“Oh, perfect.” Derek shot back. “We have our roof over our heads. Glass half full. Fantastic we have another optimist in here. At least we won’t starve. ”

“What’s your deal? Why are you even here? I thought you moved on?” Heather stood up from her position on the ground and moving over to him. “Do you know? I wanted to like you.” She eyed him assessing in a way she must’ve picked up from Stiles. Noting the torn leather jacket he was sporting now along with the unwashed jeans. “Everyone else thinks you're great, but really I don’t get it. You’re a dick.”

Her heart jumped. Derek smirked. “I can spot liars you know.”

“I’m not afraid of you. You and your big boo hoo sob story.”

“What do you know about it?” Derek stepped forward shallowly enjoying the way she backed up a step. He held back a sigh. He was a dick.

Heather stepped forward. “Everyone has one.”   She smiled and it was bitter. There was a story there that if he wanted to chase he could. He was too tired to care. “But, you will always be a dick and by the way who the fuck says no?”

Malia sided eyed Kira and whispered loudly. “I don’t get it.”

Heather’s words burned. Stiles must’ve told her what had happened. He shared their proposal story and the news that he had…hurt like a new infidelity.

“Heather,” Kira said cutting in and stepping between them.

Lydia grabbed Derek’s arm and pulled over to the far corner of the lab. “Ignore her.” She guided him to sit on a stool and crossed her arms giving him a once over. “Now, what’s wrong with you?”

Feeling petulant, he rolled a shoulder. “She’s…”

“Derek,” Lydia said warningly.

He yanked out the blood sample from his pocket. “Can you run an analysis on this?”

Taking the vial in her hands Lydia held it up. She noted the tag that indicated that it was the Vet clinic and frowned. “What’s going on?”

Derek clenched his jaw and shrugged. “Can you?”

Lydia nodded. “Can you tell me what’s going on—” She cast a quick glance over to where Kira was now whispering to Heather and Malia. “Sure.”   He didn’t care to eavesdrop on their conversation and grabbed her hand in a quick thank you squeeze.

*****

Stiles had a feeling he knew exactly where Derek had gone. Leaving Scott at the clinic to complete his shift he followed his hunch that led him to Lydia’s lab. He was just about to knock when a voice stopped him.

“Hey.”

Stiles turned and found Danny looking every inch the chic professor assistant and grinned. “Hey, man.”

Danny’s sneakers squeaked on the soft linoleum floor. “Are you sure you want to go in there?”

Stiles hesitated hand hovering over the handle. “Um?”

“You have no idea do you?” Danny laughed. He inclined his head towards the lab. “Almost all of your flames past and present are in there.”

“That’s…” Stiles frowned at Danny and then looked back at the door, “Really?” He swallowed hard.

Danny nodded, apparently enjoying his discomfort. “They’re having a picnic.”

Curious, Stiles peered through the small rectangle window in the door. He was surprised to find, Heather inside along with Lydia, Kira, Malia and…. Derek. Derek and Lydia were hunched over a lab table several feet away from the others ignoring everyone. Well, that answered that question. Derek had definitely taken the vile.

He smiled at Danny, gamely. “I love Pizza.”

Danny raised his hands. “Your funeral.”

Stiles knocked on the door ignoring Danny. Rapping a knuckle against the hard wood. Malia moved the fastest. Her face suddenly jumping into view at the glass pane like a jack in the box. Stiles reared back surprised stumbling into Danny. “Jesus.” At her insistent look, he opened the door.

With a forceful grip, Malia held grabbed the doorknob in one hand and held out an arm in victory to the others. “You all owe me 30 bucks each.”

Heather jumped off a laboratory bench and walked over to Stiles greeting him with a soft kiss. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He responded, pulling away quickly. Not that they weren’t a demonstrative couple, but for some reason it made him uncomfortable doing it here in front of Malia and Derek. His eyes swooped over them all questioningly. “What’s with the picnic?”

Heather tugged on his arm. “It’s a long story. Can you take me home?”

Stiles gave her a quick nod and then moved his gaze to Lydia. Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. He tried to avoid looking at Derek. But, like always his gaze was drawn to him. He still looked like shit, and he noted that Derek wasn’t looking at him either. Derek was staring out the window with that same lost expression he’d had in the clinic. It pulled at him like a thread.“Just a sec, I need to ask Lyds a question.”

Judging by Heather’s expressing she didn’t believe him. Stiles held firm. “One question.”

Before Heather could respond, Kira tugged Malia and Heather out by their coat sleeves. “Let’s go, guys, I’m busting!”

Well, that was way too much information although he smiled as Kira darted out leading the way to the ladies room down the hall.

Lydia walked over and wedged the door open with a stool.

“So.” Stiles drawled into the silence that followed. “How are we all?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and gave Derek a look of shared irritation.

Trying to ignore the feeling that they were excluding him he clapped his hands. “Do we have the results?”

Not even pretending to deny what they had been doing Derek threw that question to Lydia with a quirk of his eyebrows. He continued to ignore Stiles otherwise. Stiles found himself drifting closer to him anyway. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine.” Derek’s answer was terse. Perfunctory. He squared his chin avoiding meeting Stiles gaze.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Stiles in silent question and Stiles snorted, rubbing at his lip. Sure, he was. Derek was always fine. He could be bleeding out and he would still claim that he was fine. Unbidden, the words that Derek had thrown at him in the last few weeks came back to him. Haunting him.

I’ve had gut wounds that have hurt less.

Do you see her?

I would’ve said yes.

His heart thudded in remembered hurt at that awful day in the hotel room and Derek shot him a curious glance. With effort, Stiles brought himself back to the mystery at hand and what was wrong with Derek.

“Derek. You didn’t tell me it was your blood!” Lydia exclaimed.

“You knew.” Derek retorted. Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “You did,” He said again.

“You didn’t?” Stiles asked surprised. “Why not?”

“Does it matter?” Derek drawled, stone-faced. It was so much like Derek of six years ago that it threw him off for half a second. Derek was deflecting.   “What are the results?”

Lydia took a breath and then sighed not one to sugar-coat bad news. “Well, from a preliminary result… you’ve been drugged.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open. “How?” He glanced at Derek, who was frozen staring at Lydia with wide, startled eyes. Stiles reached out to comfort and then aborted the movement at the last second when Derek shifted away slightly. He avoided Lydia’s knowing look and gestured at her to continue. “How?” He repeated.

“No idea,” Lydia said, “But it could’ve been the environment. Something …”

“In a gift?” Derek wondered quietly.

Stiles didn’t think he’d meant for them to hear. “You’ve been getting gifts? And you didn’t think--”

Sensing his anger, Derek shrugged again. “Housewarming gifts. Hot chocolate, plants… is that illegal now too?” There was a snide bite to his tone that had Stiles nerves grate, but before he could say anything Derek continued. “It’s probably just accidental.”

Stiles watched as Derek scrubbed a hand over his chin and then cleared away whatever residual thought that had been lingering.

“It’s possible.” Lydia agreed. “Stiles?”

Thinking it over Stiles nodded slowly. Accidental poisoning was not uncommon. But, in Beacon Hills? That was doubtful. That was highly doubtful. “Can I see them?”

Derek sighed. “I think whatever it was, I finished it last night.”

“But,” Stiles questioned softly.

“Someone left …” Derek paused and then rubbed at his hand like it had stung him. This time, Stiles did reach out to stop the reflexive movement.

“Someone left?” He prompted.

“It doesn’t-“

Stiles tightened his hold on Derek’s hand urging him silently to continue.

“A wolfsbane plant on my mother’s grave.”

Lydia hissed out a startled breath and reached out to rest a hand on Derek’s back in comfort.

“Derek—“But, before Stiles could begin a proper interrogation like he’d wanted to Derek abruptly stood up and moved away from both of them.

He realized why a moment later when Heather knocked on the door. “Stiles? Can we go? My mom wants us to meet with the party planner.”

With no choice but to agree Stiles nodded and said. “Sure.”

Lydia followed him out. “Don’t worry, he’ll stay with Parrish and me tonight.”

Grateful, he gave her a quick warm one armed hug. “Thank you.”

He honestly hoped it was accidental, but one thing that he learned after years of being a cop and from before, always trust your intuition. Right now, he’s intuition was screaming at him that he was still missing something about Derek, but what that was he couldn’t say.

“Stiles!” Danny called jogging up to them his shoes squeaking again. Reaching them he handed over Heather’s handbag to Heather. “You forgot this.”

Heather grasped the bag in relief. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”

“And, Lydia said you’d want this?” He handed over a piece of paper. “It’s that a blood analysis?” There was a loaded question there. “Work stuff?”

Stiles met Danny’s curiosity with a bland shrug. “Yep. You know how it is.”

“I do.” Danny agreed with the solemnity that made his gaze narrow in curiosity. Danny waved it away with a dimpled smile and returning back to his office.

Stiles watched him go, thoughtfully.

“He’s a handsome man,” Heather commented.

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy.”

“Does he know…”

Stiles laughed. “Shit no. Danny is free and clear of that drama. Although he did a werewolf once upon a time.”

That always had pleased Stiles that Danny had avoided it in the end. So many people had gotten hurt when they had been initiated into the supernatural stuff, but Danny? He’d made a choice to not get involved, after he had dumped Ethan, he had gotten an early entry into college and hadn’t looked back as far as Stiles could see. It was good to see him, though, even if Danny’s return had been for a crappy reason. Stiles didn’t know what he was going to do when the day came and he lost his father and he still had his Gran, who lived in Florida.

Not everyone could say the same. Some more than others.

Derek’s drugged pained voice echoed in his ears.

_Do you see her?_

Holding onto Heather’s hand as they walked through the sandstone halls of the university he winced as he felt the engagement ring cut into his palm and he loosened his hold before dropping her hand entirely.  

_I would’ve said yes_


	10. Running to Stand Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles struggles with being completely professional when Derek is brought in for questioning. Lydia visits Jackson in New York.

Chapter Ten

 

“Running to Stand Still"

 

**New York**

 

The phone call had brought them to New York. Lydia and Parrish both had taken the red-eye, and they emerged into the New York traffic tired and determined. Lydia pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. The light was too bright at this hour. Neither of them had a suitcase, but they had a duffle bag each. Parrish held them both over one shoulder. Lydia glanced over at him as they began making their way to the taxi rank.

 

“You have the address?”

 

Parrish nodded. He slipped in front of her as they reached the queue. She shivered in the freezing air. She loved New York and had enjoyed spending time here while she had been studying, but she hadn’t missed its frosty bite.

 

Parrish wrapped an arm around her, and she burrowed in trying to gather some warmth, she stared at the gray sidewalk and tried not to think about why they were being called to New York.

 

One hour and a bit later they were standing out the front of a run-down apartment building. Even though they were now holding their duffle bags, Parrish tapped the top of the taxi and leaned down.

 

“Can you wait here?” The driver nodded.

 

Lydia led the way into the building she’d had enough of the cold. She pushed opened the heavy wooden door and found herself in a dark, putrid smelling foyer. She glanced at the lift and then for safety’s sake took the stairs. The apartment was only on level 2.

 

Two flights and Lydia didn’t want to think about what she walking through she was found herself at the door of apartment 203.

 

She knocked.

 

No answer.

 

Parrish tried the handle. It opened with a soft click. They both pushed open the door and then covered their mouths and noses with their hands.

 

“Jesus,” Parrish muttered. “And I thought it stank out there.”

 

Lydia tentatively stepped inside and called out. “Jackson?”

 

No answer.

 

Parrish dumped their bags on the ground just inside the front door. He kept moving forward keeping one hand backward to Lydia in a simple gesture to wait there. She ignored it.

 

She surveyed the apartment. It smelled like vomit. The walls were gray. The floor was covered in grime. She’d seen public restrooms cleaner than this.

 

“Jackson?” She called again.

 

There was a muffled murmur and then they saw him.

Jackson Whitmore first love of her life prostrate on the floor a needle in his arm and the cell phone in the other. His face was ice white. He looked like death.

 

Lydia surged forward kneeling down and slapping him hard. Parrish carefully pulled out the needle and discarded into a small evidence bag that he had in his pocket.

 

Parrish then hefted him, Jackson, up like he weighed nothing.

 

“What are you doing?” Lydia exclaimed shrilly.

 

Parrish didn’t answer moving further into the apartment. He deposited Jackson in the bath and turned on the overhead shower. It blasted down soaking them he held Jackson up. He slapped Jackson’s face. “Wake up buddy.”

 

Lydia pulled out her phone and dialed Stiles. He answered blearily on the second ring. “Hey – what’s wrong?”

 

“We’re bringing Jackson home.”

 

There was a soft sigh on the line. “Do you have a thing for strays now?”

 

“He’s OD,” Lydia said instead.

 

There was a rustle as she heard Stiles fully wake up and no doubt sneaks out of bed. “Where are you?”

 

“New York.”

 

“What the fuck?”

 

“He called. High. We took the first plane.”

 

“What.” Stiles sighed deeply. “Okay. Deaton can treat him. But, you know if he doesn’t…”

 

“I know. But, he called. That’s a sign.”

 

“Lydia?” Parrish called softly, “he’s waking up. Find a towel.”

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Jackson slurred finally registering what was happening. Ignoring him, Parrish reached around Jackson and turned the tap off.

 

“What did you take?” Lydia asked. She hung up on Stiles without saying goodbye.

 

Jackson just smirked at Parrish and then he twitched.

 

Lydia stepped forward grabbed Jackson’s wet chin and forced him to look at her. “What. Did. You. Take?”

 

Jackson stared at her flummoxed. “Are you here?”  

 

She wanted to slap him, and she exchanged a glance with Parrish, who rolled a shoulder. He was still holding Jackson, the man barely conscious. Eight years ago she could not have imagined that the boy she had loved would’ve turned into this… a werewolf drug addict.

 

“What did you take?”

 

Jackson blinked and then smiled all teeth. “Enough to make it stop.”

 

****

 

**Stiles Townhouse**

**Beacon Hills**

 

It was still early, and Heather had already left for work. Stiles splashed water on his face and then toweled his face dry. He threw the damp towel into the laundry basket and made his way into the kitchen. Now that Lydia had woken him, there wasn't any way Stiles was going to go back to sleep.  

 

He poured some coffee from the cold coffee machine ignored and the wealth of engagement party planning materials that were strewn over the kitchen table. He reheated the coffee in the microwave and then sighed eyeing the mountain of planning materials with a cautious eye. It was better not to get between Heather and a party plan. She was almost as diabolical as Lydia.

 

The microwave dinged and sipping his coffee, he walked back to his office and sat down on the sofa and considered his murder board. Again.

 

The body.

 

Derek’s night walks.

 

The gifts.

 

Lydia’s dream.

 

The markings.

 

What was the connection?

 

Making himself comfortable on the soft worn couch. He allowed his mind to drift.

 

The Hale sigil and the revenge spiral. It was all circumstantial. There wasn’t an obvious connection. No discernible pattern. Except that it seemed someone wanted them to make a connection.

 

Wanted them to look at Derek.

 

Wanted them to suspect him.

 

He’s Dad had made the comment when he saw the board that he was just reaching for something to keep him connected with Derek. Staring at the lack of strings connecting the clues together, he had to wonder if his father was right.

 

But, his intuition said otherwise.

 

His Dad had told him he was going to bring Derek in for a casual conversation about his appearance in the preserve.

 

The body had been mutilated by an animal. The worst part had been the look his father had given him the morgue when the Medical Examiner had shown them the body. It looked like it had been destroyed by a wolf.

 

Stiles still maintained that Derek had nothing to do with it.

 

He knew that his Dad wanted to believe him, but the body showing up alongside Derek’s return and coupled with his nighttime walks. It would’ve been remiss not to bring him. He sighed and then cursed in sudden realization. His Dad was going to bring Derek in without him around and with him working a pickup shift last night his dad would bring Derek in now.

 

He ran to the bedroom to get dressed. If Derek was going to be questioned, Stiles wanted to be there at least. He told himself it was because there was a mystery that needed solving and not because he thought Derek needed protection.

 

*****

 

**Police Station**

**Beacon Hills**

At 7.30am, the Sherriff had arrived at Derek’s door with a somber expression.

 

By 8.00am, he was in the interview room at the Sherriff’s station. It was the story of his life at Beacon Hills that this was hardly a surprise to him.

 

Derek took the coffee offered to him the Sherriff. “Thanks.” He sat down on the cold plastic chair and grimaced and its uncomfortableness. It was most likely by design.

 

“You understand why you’re here.”

 

Derek nodded, took a sip of the coffee then asked the question that had been plaguing him since he allowed the Sherriff to drive him here. “Do I need a lawyer?”

 

The Sherriff’s eyebrow twitched. “Do you think you need one?”

 

“Sherriff let’s cut to the chase. I’ve been having blackouts and ended up in the—“

 

The interview door banged open, and Stiles stood there out of breath. He pointed a finger at Derek.

“Do not say another word.” He turned to the Sherriff. “Sherriff, a word, if you please.”

 

“Well, since you asked so nicely son.” With a mildly put upon look, the Sherriff conceded and followed Stiles out of the room.

 

They left the door open, and he stared out the beige walls of the Police Station with a frown. He was tempted to eavesdrop but thought better of it. He didn’t want to hear what Stiles thought about him at the moment. If anything he wanted to avoid him at all costs. It had been why Derek agreed so readily to meet with the Sherriff. He had known Stiles had worked the previous night and would have the day off.

 

He was surprised when Danny walked past and then reappeared poked his head in. “Hey. You okay?”

 

“Danny?”

 

“Yeah, sorry, I kind of … is everything all right?” Danny asked.

 

“Yeah, just, having a conversation.”

 

Danny looked shocked and he shuffled back a step. “A conversation?”

 

“About nothing remarkable,” Stiles said, reappearing suddenly. He pressed a hand down on Danny’s shoulder forcing him to step out of the doorway. “Don’t worry, he’s just leaving.”

 

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pretty sure this needs to happen.”

 

“Oh, does it, now.” Stiles stepped past Danny and into the room. “Catch up later Danny.” He gave Danny a quick smile and then closed the door on him.

 

Derek caught a glimpse of Danny smiling at Stiles before it fell off his face as his gaze slid to him as the door clicked shut. He sighed another budding friendship down the drain because of his reputation in this town.  

 

“So.” Stiles leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Stiles.” Derek sighed. They’d been through this – he wasn’t a mystery to be solved. He rubbed at the table and then glanced at Stiles, who was watching him with a carefully blank expression. He hated that feeling. It was a pity and puzzle all rolled into one. “You were there… you found me. It’s … I may not remember… but… I was definitely at the --”

 

“Derek,” Stiles cut in. “Another body was found.”

 

“When?” Derek frowned. He was having blackouts. He’d been in the preserve. If he were the Sherriff, he’d bring him in as well.

 

“Doesn’t matter. The time of death puts you elsewhere.”

 

“Really.” He couldn’t keep the dry skepticism out of his tone.

 

Stiles sat down opposite to him and eyed him seriously and gave him a shrug. “You were with me.”

Derek balked and glanced about instinctively at the two-way mirrored window. He had no doubt the Sherriff was on the other side. He shook his head. There was no reason for Stiles to cover for him.

Stiles crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table. It creaked. With effort, Derek refused to lean back away from him. “Really. We were at Malia’s opening.”

Derek took that in and then shook his head. “Not all night.”

 

“Jesus Christ.” Stiles exploded. “Can you let someone help you for one god damn second?!”

 

Derek ignored that and rose. He tapped on the window. “I should still make a statement.”

 

“Jesus.” Stiles stood up and approached him. “Do you hear what I’m saying here? You. Didn’t. Do. This.”

 

“That I’m not involved?” Derek asked.

 

“Yes.” Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and Derek couldn’t stop the wry twist to his mouth.

 

“Get your father, I need to make a statement.”

 

He moved away and sat back down.

 

“Derek,” Stiles said, “We’ll figure this out.”

 

Studiously, Derek looked away from Stiles and after a long drawn out moment Stiles left the room. The door opened seconds later, and the Sherriff reentered. “Son. You don’t have to do this, you know. Stiles’ right.”

 

Derek frowned and then met the Sherriff’s gentle gaze. “But, I need too.”

 

*****

 

Outside the interview room, Stiles contemplated going into the observation room to watch the proceedings. He really wanted to hear what Derek had to say and what he couldn’t figure out was whether it was as an ex-lover or as a cop. If Parrish were here, he'd say it was the former, and the thing was… Stiles wasn’t sure Parrish was wrong. He paced and then with a disgruntled laugh at himself went to find some coffee in the break room.

 

Danny was seated at the table playing with a crossword. He pushed it aside when Stiles entered.

“What did he do?”

 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking in a professional or personal capacity?”

 

“Curious.” Danny played with the pen in his hand and shrugged. “Also he lives in my building.”

 

“You don’t need to be worried.” Stiles poured a mug of coffee and then went to the fridge and grabbed the milk. He sniffed at the carton and then gagged. He threw it in the bin reached for another carton of milk. “Have you heard from Jackson recently?”

 

Danny shrugged. “He called the other day… seemed high strung as usual”

 

Stiles turned sipping his lukewarm coffee. It was bitter and disgusting. He reached for the sugar. “Oh yeah? What’s he do now?”

 

“Modeling, maybe… I didn’t ask.” Danny rose and then reached for the paper. “Mind if I take this?” He smiled that mega dimpled wattage at him. “Can’t leave a crossword unfinished.”

 

Stiles raised his mug of coffee. “Knock yourself out.”

 

Danny grinned his thanks. He paused at the threshold to the break room. “If Lydia does hear--”

“Sure.” Stiles concurred, unwilling to share the information that Jackson was strung out in New York. “You’ll be the first to know.”

 

Danny left with a nod. “Thanks, man.”

 

One hour later and Stiles had caught up on all of his paperwork. He sprung to his feet catching sight of Derek leaving the interview room. “Derek?”

 

Derek turned and then turned to his father who was watching Stiles with a disapproving expression. “It’s okay.”

 

Stiles was no heartbeat detector, but that seemed like a lie. He left without saying another word to Stiles. The Sherriff waited for Stiles to approach him. “You should give that boy some space.”

 

“What?” Stiles said affronted. “I’m just doing my job.”

 

His father gave him that look that meant he was disappointed in him. He’d been seeing since he was five. He ignored it. “I am.”

 

“Stiles.” His father gripped his arm and dragged him back into the interview room and closed the door. “Are you?”

 

“Yes.” He hissed. “I am. I’m –“

 

“Don’t lie to me.” The Sherriff shot back eyeing him with that baleful glare. “I know you love Heather. But, something’s happened between you two recently, Aha!” He held up a finger, “I don’t know what it was, and I don’t want too, but all I’m saying is maybe just give him some space.”

 

Stiles felt himself go cold and hot at the same time. He felt oddly betrayed that his father was on Derek’s side. Derek had turned him down. “Dad, come on.”

 

“That boy cares about you and apparently you still care about him, so do us all a favor and just—“

 

“Give him some space.” Stiles finished.

 

The Sherriff nodded relieved that his message was getting through. “Yes.”

 

“Fine,” Stiles said, feeling the muscle in his jaw clench. “Sherriff, can you tell me what the witness said in his statement.”

 

The eye roll that his father gave him was epic, but Stiles was unrepentant. “Okay, then Deputy, he didn’t see anything and before you ask Lydia’s sending the results of the blood sample. At this point, he’s just an unfortunate witness.”

 

“Perfect.” Stiles threw up his hands. “We’re still no closer to figuring out the pattern.”

 

“We have two bodies.”

“One witness.” Stiles agreed. “And the markings…”

 

The Sherriff sighed tiredly. “So. Nothing yet.” He tapped Stiles on the shoulder. “Go home. Get some rest, plan your party, there’s nothing more you can do here.”

 

*****

 

18 hours after they arrived in New York, Parrish and Lydia landed back in Beacon Hills with a still out of it Jackson along for the ride.

 

Derek met them at the airport. Lydia had never been more relieved to see him in her life. She jogged ahead and gave him a heartfelt hug. “Thank God.”

 

Pressing a hand to the nape of her neck, Derek gave her a warm bear hug. “How is he?”

 

Lydia sighed burying into his warmth and taking some comfort. “He’s Jackson.”

 

Derek’s laugh was muffled in her hair. “Okay.”

 

They separated as Parrish and Jackson arrived next to them. Jackson was pale and drawn. Underweight and defiant. But, he had allowed Lydia to bring him home, so that meant something. He met Derek’s glare and both their eyes flashed.

 

Derek moved fast and gripped him by the nape of his neck. “It’s good to see you.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”

 

“Not unless you ask nicely.” The last of the color left Jackson’s face.

 

Lydia hid her laugh, behind her gloved hand. Jackson smirked. “So, what’s your plan?”

 

“Cold Turkey,” Derek responded. His voice was hard and unyielding.

 

Jackson swallowed hard, but his shoulders straightened. “How do we start?”

 

Derek’s grip on Jackson’s neck flexed and then tightened. He smiled, and it was full of apology.

 

“You’re going to Eichen House.”

 

****

**McCall Family House**

 

The Sunday lunch that week at the McCall house was a quiet affair. Scott pulled the roast from the oven and placed it on the bench. He covered it with foil and then called out to Kira. “You sure he’s coming?”

 

Kira dressed casually in bright leggings and a sweater walked into the kitchen tying her hair into a ponytail. “Yeah.”

 

Scott glanced at the bounty of food on the bench. “Well, Lydia’s caught up with Jackson. Stiles is party planning…”

 

“But he always comes,” Kira reassured. “Your Mom?”

 

“Working. But, said we could start without her.” Sunday lunches always happened at the McCall house and even after he and Kira had found a place of their own. Melissa wanted them all to feel welcome. This house was still his home.

 

“Oh.” Kira breathed out. “We have too much food.”

 

“Babe?” Scott sighed deeply. “What did he say exactly?”

 

“He said if he could, he would.”

 

Scott sighed. “That’s a no.”

 

Kira reached for her phone. “I’ll call him.”

 

Scott dived forward and grabbed the phone from her. “NO.”

 

“Scott. You want to make amends. This is how.”

 

“Derek doesn’t need any—“

 

“What?” Stiles asked entering the kitchen, Heather a step behind. “What about—“ He glanced at Heather and then kept whatever he was going to say to himself.

 

Kira greeted Heather and Stiles with a quick hug and a kiss. “Thanks for coming.”

 

Heather rolled her eyes. “Stiles would never miss a McCall lunch.” She placed her handbag down on the bench and sat down at the table. “Smells great. Anything I can do?”

 

Kira shook her head and Scott took the opportunity to pull Stiles from the kitchen. “Um, so we invited Derek.”

 

Stiles glanced around at the darkened hall. “And this required a special secret meeting why?”

Scott couldn’t stop his eyebrows from climbing his forehead. “Because it’s Derek and—“

 

“I’m engaged,” Stiles said firmly.

 

“I know.”

 

He knew Stiles loved Heather, yet there was no way that Scott was going to mention the way Stiles was obsessing over Derek in a way that he hadn’t seen since high school and he’d first been turned. “I’m just saying—“

 

“It’s fine,” Stiles said dismissively. “He won’t come anyway.”

 

Scott sighed deeply. “Yeah, I suppose…” He knew Stiles was right and especially after everything that had happened recently it wasn’t like Derek would just push all that aside and show up for lunch. Except he hoped, he would.

 

“But, it was good that you invited him.”

 

“Kira did.” Scott said, and Stiles slapped him on the shoulder. “Ow! I know –“

 

“Scott,” Stiles said disappointment in his tone. “Seriously.”

 

“It’s not like that—“ Scott protested half-heartedly. Except it was because on some fundamental level, he objected to the fact that he should apologize to Derek. Derek had said no, and the rejection of Stiles’ proposal had seemed in an odd way a rejection of him as well. He hadn’t quite forgiven him, if he ever would, for all that had happened three years ago, but on some level he understood why Derek couldn’t forgive him either. In choosing to support Stiles he left Derek high and dry. It had never really occurred to him until now what his actions would reap. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

 

“Thank you.” Stiles murmured clapping him on the shoulder and leading him back to the kitchen.

 

Kira and Heather had made short work of serving up the food and placing it on the dining table. Scott and Stiles took their seats beside their respective partners and then they all froze when the doorbell rang. Stiles raised his eyebrows at Scott.

 

Scott frowned and then subtly shook his head. It wasn’t Derek. Stiles relaxed, but Scott saw a flicker of disappointment crossed his face. He snuck a glance at Heather and saw that he wasn't the only one.

 

"I'll just.." He ducked out and found to his surprise Danny standing there in the entry holding a bottle of wine.

 

Danny’s smile fell a little at Scott’s surprised look. “Sorry, is this weird. Lydia said you—“

 

Scott smiled welcoming even though it had slipped his mind that he’d invited Danny to the lunch. He led Danny into the kitchen and set up a place on the table. “Guys, you all know Danny.”

 

Danny dragged out a chair and sat down. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that I was …”

 

Stiles waved a hand. “No, it’s fine. We just didn’t expect any more company.”

 

“No show Derek.” Heather murmured taking a sip of her wine.

 

Kira’s eyes widened in surprise. “Heather.” The rebuke clear.

 

“What,” Heather said eyes on Stiles, “It’s not like it’s a secret or anything, is it? We all know you invited him and he’s a no show again.”

 

“Derek—“ Stiles began only to be interrupted by Heather.

 

“Don’t defend him, Stiles!” Heather snapped. “Stop defending him.”

 

Scott exchanged a look with Kira this was beyond awkward. If he could hazard a guess, he would have bet that Stiles and Heather had been arguing all the way from their house. Kira reached for his hand underneath the table and squeezed it in reassurance.

 

Danny shrunk down his seat when Heather turned on him. “You live with him right?”

 

“Um, not really,” Danny swallowed. “He’s in the same building, yeah, but—“

 

“Tell me. What do you think of the great Derek? Did you know he was brought in for questioning?” Danny’s gaze darted from Heather to Stiles and he nodded slowly.

 

“Listen, guys.” Scott began only to be interrupted by an irritated Stiles.

 

Stiles pushed his plate aside. “Is this really necessary, Het? We’ve been through this…”

 

Heather rolled her eyes and turned to Danny. “Did you know my fiancé has a murder board with his ex-boyfriend at the center?”

 

“Um, well.” Danny stuttered. “That’s…” He turned to Stiles surprised. “Really?”

 

Heather threw up her hands. “You see. It is weird. I’m not having that around when my Dad is here. Our engagement party is in a week Stiles! A week.”

 

“It’s not a wedding, though, is it?” Danny muttered. Scott shot him a surprised look and Danny rolled his eyes. He turned to gaze back to Stiles and watched as an unimpressed Stiles leaned back in his chair a study in frustration. “You really want to do this here.”

 

“You gave me no choice!” Heather stormed. Her eyes were wet and Kira reached out to take her hand. “I’m trying to plan our engagement party and you’re—.'

 

“Trying to stop a murderer!” Stiles exploded slamming his hand down on the table.

 

The plates all leaped upwards, and a wine glass fell over red cascading over the table.

 

He wasn’t talking about Derek, but unfortunately for Stiles that was the moment that Derek knocked on the front door. Scott could scent him. Scraping back his chair he raced to the front door and threw it open and found a bottle of wine on the doorstep.

 

Derek had already left.

Shit.

 

Stiles appeared at his shoulder. “Fuck, was that him?”

 

Scott nodded and then sighed. “Maybe you should –“

 

“Take my fiancé home, yeah.” Stiles agreed. He turned and then paused leaning down to pick up the forgotten bottle of wine. He tossed it back in forth in his hands and then sighed. “My Dad said the same thing, you know?”

 

“About Derek?” Scott guessed.

 

“About the case,” Stiles corrected and then sighed. “No,… yeah… about both.”

 

Scott paused gathering his thoughts watching Stiles, who was staring down at the bottle of wine like he hoped it held the answers to the universe. “You’d do the same for me. You’d do the same for us all. It’s just … because it’s…”

 

“Derek,” Stiles finished with a tired sigh. “Fuck.”

 

“Go home Stiles.” Scott said and headed back inside. Pausing he glanced back at Stiles. “Did you ever think that the Fae might still be loose at she’s just messing with everyone?”

 

Stiles frowned considering, brown eyes narrowing. “I did.” He shook his head after a moment. “Still doesn’t make sense why pick on Derek then? He wasn’t even here when you…” He gestured to Scott’s shoulder where the blade had injured him.

 

Rolling his shoulder reflexively in remembered pain Scott sighed. “Then I’m sorry. I don’t get it.” The sigh that whistled out of Stiles made him wince in sympathy. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

 

“What if I’m too late?” Stiles said hands tightened on the bottle of wine. His eyes meeting his eyes haunted. “What if we’re too late and someone gets hurt?”

 

****

**Eichen House Beacon HIlls**

 

On the Wednesday following the McCall House family lunch and wearing new black pants and a woolen sweater Peter Hale stepped out of Eichen House.

 

Parrish watched him rolls his shoulders and pursed his lips leaning into say to the Sherriff, who was motionless beside him. “I don’t like this.”

 

The Sherriff sighed deeply and shot him that overly sharp look that he’d become familiar with, “No kidding.” He paused and then sighed. “Why are your wife and Malia here? I thought I told you to keep it on the down low.”

 

“I did.” He flicked his head around and saw Lydia’s small Ford pulling to a soft stop in the car park. “I have no idea.”

 

Another hard look from the Sherriff and Parrish found himself following the non-verbal command. “Yep. On it.”

 

Lydia was already sliding out of the car, Malia a beat behind. Her red hair was tied in a casual bun, she wiped her hand on her jet black pants. “I just wanted…”

 

“Honey.”

 

Malia held up a hand. “Oh. No. I’m no one’s—“

 

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “Jordan.”

 

“Why are you here?” Jordan tried again.

 

“What makes you think we’re here for him?” Lydia threw back quietly.

 

“Don’t play games,” Parrish said kissing her cheek and looping his arm through hers, guiding her away from where Peter was waiting for his taxi.

 

“I’m not here about that,” She said quietly. “I’m here for Deaton.”

 

Parrish frowned. “He’s gone back to the clinic after putting the band on Hale and checking on Jackson.” The band was an electronic tracking device that was coated with a particular material that means Peter would be unable to remove it.

 

Peter’s sharp gaze snapped to them both. Astute. Considering. “Lydia. Malia. It’s so lovely to see you.”

 

“I’d say the same, but you’d hear the lie.” Lydia smiled.

 

Peter smiled, delighted. He directed his question to them all. “Where is my nephew?”

 

The Sherriff stepped forward along with Malia, but it was the Sherriff who spoke. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you?”

 

Peter blue eyes flashed. “Of course.”

 

No one believed for one second that Peter wasn’t going to search out Derek. Stiles had told him a little bit about Derek’s last visit and there was no way that Peter was looking to make amends. Although, everyone deserved a second chance. An opportunity to make it right. But, that look in Peter’s eye had every instinct in him as an officer on alert and then it happened.

 

Lydia dropped her handbag and let out an almighty scream.

 

Everyone supernatural except the Sheriff cringed.

 

Parrish caught a glimpse of him staring between the floored supernatural beings and Lydia in shock.

Hands clamped over his ears. Parrish tried to minimize the impact. It sounded like a fog horn at full blast millimeters from his ear.

 

Malia scampered away. Peter move to assist her, covering her.

 

Parrish tried to reach forward to Lydia, but the scream was paralyzing.

 

The Sherriff reached for Lydia and grabbed her. “Lydia?!” He gripped her arms, trying to shake her out of it.

 

Lydia remained still. Mouth open. The scream echoing. Her eyes scrunched up, but unfocused.

 

Then just as suddenly it was over.

 

The silence deafening.

 

Lydia fell forward, hunching over sucking in a gasping breath.

 

Parrish raced to her pushing the Sherriff out of the way. “What did you see?”

 

Lydia stared at him and said one word. “Death.”

 


	11. Your Going to Need Someone Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles pays a visit to a newly released Peter. Lydia and Parrish force Derek to attend Stiles and Heather's pre-engagement party drinks.

**Chapter Eleven**

**"You're Going to Need Someone On Your Side"**

**Justice Department Boarding House**

**Beacon Hills**

 

In the Beacon Hills Patrol car's front passenger seat Stiles watched the scenery fly by they were heading to a newer complex on the other side of Beacon Hills.

 

“Tell me again why we are doing this?” Parrish asked his hand dropping from the steering wheel to rest on the gear stick. “Did you clear it with your Dad?”

 

Stiles shrugged a shoulder and then glanced down at his phone checking the address. “I think it’s a left down here.”

 

“Stiles.” Parrish slowed the car down and turned on the indicator. “Did you clear it with the Sherriff?”

 

“Someone needs to check on him.”

 

Parrish’s hands flexed around the steering wheel. “That’s not a yes.”

 

Stiles frowned at him. “It’s not a no either.”

 

“Peter’s being monitored. He can't go anywhere without us knowing about it.”

 

“Your wife had a vision when he was released.” Stiles retorted, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Not the first she’s had either in the past few weeks.”

 

Parrish tensed. “She hasn’t talked about it.”

 

“Dad said she saw death.”

 

“Death is a general term – it could be a metaphorical death, it could be a dying plant, a dying fucking tree.”

 

“It could be a person,” Stiles interjected quietly not hiding his worry.

 

“Your engagement party is in two days, your in-laws are landing today and you’re worried about the case?” He didn’t say his name, but he didn’t have too. They were talking about Derek after all.

 

“It’s a party, not a honeymoon.” Stiles said and Parrish let out a low surprised whistle.

 

“Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to Heather.”

 

“What?” Stiles said, confused and then mentally replayed what he had just said. “What? … Oh, come on.”

 

“I’m not saying anything,” Parrish said. “You know what actually? I am saying something. You have asked someone else to marry you and she’s awesome. She’s great. She’s nice. Focus on that. Not this case. I don’t know what happened between you and –“

 

“This isn’t about Derek.”

 

Parrish continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “And I don’t want to know the specifics, but you took whatever he was offering and threw it away…. so, don’t pretend to care about him now.”

 

Furious, Stiles swiveled in the seat and stared at him. “Fuck you! I care. Of course. I do. But, fuck you for thinking that I would ever let anybody that I care about, which includes you, by the way, high and dry when I could be helping them!”

 

Parrish rolled the car to a stop and cracked his neck and then sighed deeply. “Sorry.”

 

“Yeah, well. Wanna share that with the victims’ families?” It was a low blow and Stiles held up hand immediately for going too far.

 

Parrish eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I forget that you’re an ass.”

 

Stiles forced himself to smile. “Sucks to be you, then.”

 

Shaking his head, Parrish unclicked the seatbelt. “We’re here.”

 

The two men approached the boarding room facility Stiles shouldering on his Deputy jacket as he went. They signed in and began making their way to the room that Peter had been booked into. It was a barren hospital-like building. A boarding house full of security bars and cameras. Stiles clocked each one as he went. One on the first floor, the second and each entry point.

 

Peter greeted them at the door with a cold smile, making it clear their presence was unwelcome.

“It’s been too long.”

 

“Not long enough.” Stiles breathed.

 

“What brings you here?”

 

Parrish snorted. “Let’s cut to the chase shall we?” He ignored the look that Stiles shot him telling him to back down. “Please stay away from your nephew.”

 

“Deputy, I can’t control who visits me.” Peter’s amusement was evident. “As you can see.” He tilted his head and nodded to Stiles. “Congratulations on your engagement.” He smirked at their confusion and added, “I saw the notice in the paper.”

 

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered forcing the words through stiff lips. “Didn’t realize you got the trades inside.”

 

Peter clapped his hands together, eyes twinkling in snide delight. “I must say, I thought we would always end up becoming family one day, didn’t you?”

 

Before he could move Parrish clamped a hand down on his forearm, hard. “It looks like everything is in order. Thank you for your time.”

 

He tugged at Stiles' arm. But, Stiles steadfastly remained unmoved. “Mind if we take a look around.” It wasn't pitched as a question and Peter knew it.

 

"Why should I?" Peter stepped back into the one-bedroom room. “It’s more than I had. I'd offer you coffee, but I'm not allowed those sort of stimulants. Perhaps you could--”

 

Parrish rolled his eyes. "You have tea. You're fine."

 

Stiles' eyes snapped around the room cataloging noting any discrepancies and more irritatingly finding nothing of obvious criminal interest. There was a small sofa, and bed, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. It was more of a glorified dorm room than an actual apartment. There was a plastic shopping bag of materials, a plastic shaver. He noted that there were no knives on the cutting block and sighed everything dangerous had been removed. Standard procedure. On some level, it made Stiles feel for him. There was literal nothing personal in the room that he could see, other than a small TV to keep him entertained. It was like he was still in prison and in a way he was, he was thankful that. After a long drawn out moment, he gritted out. “Thank you for your time.”

 

A bark of laughter was his answer as Peter shut the door in their faces. Stiles pulled at his collar frustrated and then met Parrish’s unimpressed look. “Don’t say it.”

 

“You’re explaining this to your father.” Parrish turned on his heel and left.

 

Stiles stared after him torn. He really wanted to conduct a thorough search of Peter’s apartment, but without any substantive evidence, there was no cause. The law didn’t respond to feelings and Stiles’ had a hunch that something terrible was brewing on the horizon. He couldn’t shake it. His phone blasted in his back pocket and he pulled it out with a telling dance of the sugarplum ring. “Hey, Babe.”

 

Heather’s voice drifted down the line. “Have you confirmed the guests for the rehearsal drinks for the engagement party?”

 

Stiles rubbed at his brow as he began trekking down the hall following Parrish. “Is this really a thing?”

 

A long beat of silence made him hastily add. “But, yes … the gang’s all coming.”

 

Heather’s response was clipped. “Make sure you invite Derek.”

 

That made him pause. “Why would I…”

 

“It’s the polite thing to do.” Heather responded finally after a short silence and hung up.

 

She was right. He realized. Logically speaking it had a twofold purpose an olive branch to friendship. Derek was an important part of the group and it served also to remind Derek that Stiles was moving on. Stiles had to hand it to her. His fiancée was clever if a little cruel.

 

****

 

**Fire House 3 – Watch House**

**Beacon Hills**

 

Three hot cups of coffee were placed down in front of where Derek was seated in the Watch House. Derek looked up in surprise to find Parrish standing there. He frowned. “You bought three?”

 

“I got one for Kira.” Parrish eyed the room searching for her.

 

“Engagement present shopping,” Derek told him.

 

Parrish shrugged tapped his shoulder and nodded towards the exit. Derek grabbed the coffee and followed him outside into the cold air.   He tapped one of the Firefighters on the shoulder, "Just outside, Baz."

 

Baz waved him away intent on reading his book.

 

Once they were outside, he led them to a quiet area just off the main drive.

 

“So you going?” Parrish wondered. “To the rehearsal drinks?”

 

Derek laughed incredulously. “Not invited.”

 

“Have you checked your email? There’s no way they wouldn’t—“

 

“Then not going,” Derek said, slurping a sip of the hot coffee. It scalded his tongue a little.

 

“Well,” Parrish sighed, “You tell Lydia that one.”

 

“Is that why you’re here?” Derek leaned back against the old brick wall and shot him a look underneath his brows. “To see if I’m going to their ridiculous rehearsal drinks for an engagement party? It's not a wedding, right?”

 

Parrish watched him carefully and then shook his head. “No.”

 

Derek quirked an eyebrow when Parrish let the silence drag. Parrish frowned. “How you feeling?”

 

“I'm all right,” Derek said irritated, “don’t make it a big deal, it’s not..”

 

“It is and –“

 

“… and I haven’t spoken to Peter.” Derek finished.

 

“That’s…” Parrish shook his head and then a relieved look settled over his shoulders, “Good. That’s good.”

 

“But, that’s not why you’re here is it?” Derek realized.

 

“Lydia …”

 

Derek felt his frustration grow. This eggshell thing that everyone was doing was getting incredibly annoying. “I know she saw something.”

 

“Death. She saw death.” Parrish clarified, blue eyes worried.

 

“She’s seen it before.” Derek dismissed. “It doesn’t make a difference.”

 

Parrish struggled to come up with a response to that and then he frowned. “Have you spoken to Stiles about it?”

 

“Jesus, why would I?” Derek wondered, thumbing the top of the coffee cup. “It’s not like…”

 

“Derek.” Parrish scoffed. “He's your friend.“

 

The truth was his relationship with Stiles was something that couldn’t be classified as friendship or something else. It was entirely listed as complicated exes. He wasn’t sure at this point if they could go back to just being friends.

 

Just Friends.

 

_Just._

 

Derek hated that fucking word. "Yeah, I know."

 

"Derek," Parrish began frustrated.

 

The klaxon abruptly blared alert them to an impending call sounded and Derek straightened tilting his head to listen and then shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry, that’s me.”

 

Jogging towards the EMT truck he left Parrish nursing his cup of coffee. “You should know!” Parrish called after him. “Lydia’s got you a date for tonight!”

 

That did make Derek pause briefly and he turned. “What--.”

 

“So unless you want Lydia at your door tonight then you –“

 

“I thought it was just dinner?”

 

Parrish smirked. “It’s never just dinner.”

 

****

 

**Joe’s Irish Bar**

**Beacon Hills**

 

A sense of déjà vu hit Derek when he walked back into the Irish Bar. The last time he had been in here he had realized how much he wanted Stiles. He paused and a soft hand grabbed his wrist. He looked down and found a curious Lydia eyeing him. “Okay?”

 

He shrugged her off. “Are you?”

 

The pressure on his wrist increased slightly before it relaxed betraying the lie she was about to sprout. “Fine.”   She pulled him towards a table at the back situated underneath a large wall mirror. He could already see Malia was sitting there waiting and beside her was a man in a black leather jacket. He seemed familiar and then Derek realized who his ‘date’ for the evening was and he smiled. “Nathan.”

 

Dressed casually in jeans and blue shirt, Nathan was still as attractive as when they’d last met. His eyes danced around him. Up and down. Appreciative. “Derek.”

 

There was a surprise in his tone and Derek raised his eyebrows at Malia. Hiding her response behind a purple cocktail, Malia's eyes challenged him. He narrowed his own eyes in response but held out a hand to Nathan.

 

Nathan straightened from where he’d been lounging against the tall table and slid closer. He ignored Derek’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Derek jolted in surprise hand reflexively resting against Nathan’s hard chest. Yet, before he could say anything, Nathan slid closer whispering into his ear. “Six o’clock. The ex is watching.”  

 

His eyes darted to the mirror that was hanging behind their table. Ignoring the snuffles of amused giggles that Malia swallowed with her drink he saw that a smartly dressed Stiles had entered with Heather and to his surprise he saw the unmistakable look of jealously. Their eyes met.

 

_He’s not good enough for you._

 

Stiles looked away first, pulling Heather close to him to lead her through the crowd. Nathan reached up grabbed Derek’s hand from where it was still resting on his chest and then pulled away. He guided Derek to a seat and stayed close Derek. Malia leaned over and gave him another wet kiss as a greeting. “He’s out.”

 

“I heard.” Derek agreed. “Anyone want a drink?” He stood up not wanting to get back into it. Not wanting to discuss Peter of all people, again. It also was a welcome distraction from the imminent arrival of Stiles and Heather. He knew this was their engagement drinks, but it didn't stop it from being hard to see them together, to know that Stiles would never be his.

 

Nathan pushed him back down. “I’ll get it. I remember what you like.” He ran a hand down Derek’s back interested, scraping at an errant bit of exposed skin at his waist. Derek shivered in surprise gaze darting to Nathan, who smirked at his response and then disappeared into the crowd.

 

“Why is he here?” Stiles asked upon arriving at the table.

 

“Stiles.” Lydia greeted with enthusiasm cutting off any response of Derek’s with a sharp look. “Look at your lovely bride.” Lydia took in the small black dress that hugged Heather’s curves in all the right places.

 

Heather preened at the attention, her eyes finding Derek’s with a small dash of vitriol. He wondered if he deserved it. As an ex-boyfriend of Stiles. He probably did. He nodded and his gaze sought out Nathan, who was at the bar chatting with a petite red-haired. “I’m just going to help Nate with the drinks.”

 

He ignored the annoyed huff from Stiles and the under breath mutter to Malia. “He’s _Nate_ now?”

 

Leaving the table, he pushed his way through the crowd away from the bar and towards the back and into the street. Just needing to breathe and have some space. He sucked in a deep breath. Taking in the scent of Beacon Hills. Feeling his connection to the surroundings and then once he’d settled his equilibrium he squared his shoulders and went back to enjoy what he could about the evening. Scott and Kira had arrived by the time he returned along with Nathan. He ignored the speculative look that Stiles shot him when he sat back down sandwiched between Malia and Nathan.

 

He had to hand it to Nathan whatever brief that Malia had given him or whether it was his intuition he played into perfectly. The potential dutiful boyfriend. He was attractive. Friendly and one hundred percent not Stiles.

 

That was the problem.

 

Stiles for his most part seemed to drift between ignoring Nathan altogether and then being fixedly interested in him and his future career choices. An hour and a half into the evening Derek decided to call it a night. After making his farewells, Nathan left with him. He ignored the knowing cat calls from the group. Once outside the bar Nathan paused and gave him a long considering look.

 

“It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

 

“No….” Derek had no idea what to say. It was and it wasn’t too soon. It wasn’t like he’d been a monk in Chicago. Somehow being back in Beacon changed things. Made it real. Seeing Stiles again after so long. Seeing Peter. Seeing the pack altogether. It brought the past into sharp focus and left the present wanting in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Three to be exact. Yet, he was a suspect in a murder investigation whether the Beacon Hills PD admitted it or not. He wasn’t a catch. Far from it at least.

 

Nathan’s smile was reassuring and showing no judgment. “I’m not gonna lie, dude.” His eyes raked over him suggestively. “We could have a really great night. Fucking, great.”

 

“But…” Derek prompted.

 

Nathan slid closer in that way that had become familiar. Hips first then the rest of him. “ But,” He agreed. “If I had you one night, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna want more.” He rested two hands on Derek’s shoulder gently. “So. This is me. Saying call me when you’re ready.” Giving him time to pull away, he moved one hand to Derek’s cheek and the other on the back of his neck. “Really, really, call me.” Leaning in he kissed him on the lips.

 

It was nice. Pleasant. Nathan pulled away after pressing another soft kiss to his lips. Not pressuring. Not seeking more. Although for a moment there Derek wanted it. He wanted more.

 

“Being seeing you.” With that, Nathan walked away.

 

***

 

**Stiles’ Townhouse**

**Beacon Hills**

 

The next day at Stiles behest Lydia had made her way over to his house to help take the materials to the restaurant for the party that evening. He had brought her into his office and then showed her the engagement gift he had designed for Heather. “Okay,” He said as he handed her a gold orange picture frame nervous with anticipation. “What do you think?”

 

She held the gold ornate photo picture frame delicately. A photo of Heather and Stiles was on one side and on the other an accompanying message from Stiles to Heather. It was beautiful. Her heart tripped a beat as she reread the letter and glanced up at Stiles, who rocked backward and forward on his heels nervously.

 

“It’s okay?” He asked sensing her hesitation. “Oh my god, is there a spelling mistake?”

 

She placed the frame down on his wooden office desk at war with herself about what to say.

 

Stiles moved to stand beside her, staring down at the frame puzzled by her reaction. “Is it the wrong photo?”

 

It wasn’t. It was a beautiful moment that had been captured. One from about eight months ago when they’d been on a picnic in the preserve. Heather had leaped into Stiles' arms and she had managed to capture the moment on her phone. Stiles had made sure it was a sepia toned photo for the frame to match the paper message beside it.

 

Lydia grabbed Stiles by the arm hard. “No,” She said shaking her head. “No, it’s not… It’s just you can’t.”

 

Frowning, Stiles’ hand came down to rub at her hand. Rubbing it gently to loosen its grip. “Can’t what?”

 

She shook her head voice quiet and intent. “You can’t marry her.”

 

Shaking off her hold altogether. Stiles withdrew. He tilted his head and brought a hand up to scratch at his chin. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“Okay.” Lydia murmured. “I just…that letter. It’s… Are you sure it’s about her?”

 

“Of course, it is.” Stiles' eyes stared at her honestly bemused. “It’s for her.”

 

Lydia wasn’t so sure. She tried a different tact. “Honestly, what do you see when you look around this room?”   She asked, hoping that he would see what she saw. The murder board that was all about finding out who was hunting Derek. This room was a shrine to his love for a man he claimed to be over.

 

“This is my office,” Stiles said crossly.   “I wish… Everyone… Lydia, do you like it or not?”

 

Reluctantly, she nodded seeing that Stiles wasn’t going to see the reason right now. “It’s beautiful.”

 

****


	12. We Almost Had It All...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of Stiles and Heather's engagement party and Stiles begins to worry when he receives a strange phonecall from Derek. Lydia's concerns about Stiles present for Heather turn out to be founded, while Derek finds out who is behind the recent attacks.

**Chapter Twelve**

**"We Almost Had It All..."**

**PourHouse Café Beacon Hills**

Splatters of colorful balloons were being dragged into the restaurant across the road. It caught Derek’s eye as he exited the Pourhouse Cafe from where he grabbed his dirty chai latte and he paused as he realized what they were for – Stiles’ engagement party.

Slowing to a complete stop, he couldn’t help but visualize how he wish it could’ve been. He could almost see Stiles dragging him inside to the restaurant knowing that Derek disliked being the center of attention. The smile on his face the way he’d get that hint of high color in his cheeks when he was excited and thrilled. Derek would’ve halted them at the door for a quick kiss he was sure. Stiles being Stiles would have pressed into it and then told him he wasn’t getting out of going inside and then he would’ve grabbed his hand and dragged him.

“Hey.” He jolted as someone exiting the café shouldered past him. “Move it.”

Still caught up in the fantasy of what could’ve been Derek didn’t even feel the sharp needle as something was injected into his bloodstream. He stepped off the staircase moving towards where he’d parked his car around the back in the carpark. Derek didn’t think anything of the shiver of coldness that tingled through him as he walked sipping his chai.

On reaching his car, he swayed suddenly realizing that something had happened. He fumbled as with coldly numb fingers he reached for his cell that he shoved his pocket. The cup of chai dropping to the ground and spilling its contents everywhere.

Gripping the roof of his car he blinked feeling his vision go fuzzy as he tried to speed dial the first number on his list – Stiles. He hadn’t changed it after all this time. He hadn’t been able too.

His grip loosened on the roof and he fell to his knees, the phone falling to the ground and bouncing it landed beside the front wheel. His ears were ringing he saw two brown shoes appear in front of him and he frowned looking up, his vision fading in and out as of out all people Danny crouched down in front of him. Danny caught him as fell forward world turning grey and colorless except for those damn engagement balloons. He had a clear sight of the restaurant as he collapsed on Danny’s shoulder. He tried to get his mouth to work. “St—“ They were splashes of red, purple and yellow taunting him from afar. Teasing him with what could’ve been and then there was nothing, but darkness.

****

**Eve’s Restaurant Beacon Hills**

The blare of his phone distracted Stiles from where he was hanging streamers in the restaurant. Yanking it out of his pocket he paused in surprise when he saw the name on the screen. Derek. Derek never called him anymore and the very fact that he was worried him instantly. He answered on the second ring. “Derek?”

There was no response. Just the sound of what sounded like footfalls on a pavement. The cop in him made him hit the record button on the phone call out of instinct. There was a dragging sound and then his heart stopped beating altogether when he heard what seemed to be a groan. Then breathing just soft breathing into the phone. “Derek?” He asked again.

The call ended. He frowned pulling it away from his ear in surprise. That was weird. Very strange.

“Stiles?” Lydia asked from where she was setting up a flower decoration.

Clambering down the ladder, he grabbed her hand and then replayed the phone call. “Does this sound weird to you?”

Lydia listened hard and then glanced distractedly from him to the room around them. “No. Probably just an accidental butt dial.”

Despite his worry, Stiles burst out laughing. “Can you please, please…. say that again?”

Taking his phone, she slid it back into his pocket and then snapped her fingers inches from his nose. “Focus. Your engagement party starts in an hour and we need to finish the decorating so you can pick up your bride.” Both paused to watch a rainbow of balloons be pulled into the restaurant.

“Fiancée,” Stiles corrected. “We’re not married yet.”

The roll of Lydia’s eyes was pronounced and scornful. “Semantics.”  

Pulling at a streamer, Stiles quirked an eyebrow at her. “Semantics. I have a question.”

“Jackson has returned to New York.”

It wasn’t his question, but it still surprised Stiles and he let out a low whistle. “That was fast. Did he, at least, catch up with Danny?”

“He doesn’t want to see him.” She tapped her chin as she tweaked the bouquet of flowers. “Jackson seems to think Danny was the problem.”

“Danny was the problem.” Stiles repeated surprised. “Why, because he called Jackson on his shit?”

Lydia moved a rose and plucked the petals carefully and placed them at the bottom of the centerpiece. “Who knows? Deaton’s keeping an eye on him for me.”

“You know… Kira said that she—“

“I saw my gynecologist Stiles.” Lydia touched the petals moving them just so. "And she could've spoken to me."

"Oh well, um." Her curt tone made him pause, grabbing her hand that was crushing the petals. “Hey, Lyds. Are you okay?”

“We’re trying… but…”

“It’ll happen.” Stiles reassured, for some reason surprised at the news that Lydia wanted a baby with her husband. The reality of what he was committing to seemed all the physical suddenly.

“Maybe,” Lydia said shooting him a half sad look, eyes full. “We'll find out soon since you're going to ask we saw a specialist. Can you get rid of these?” She walked off before he could say anything else leaving him standing there holding crushed rose petals.

****

**Somewhere in Beacon Hills**

Intermittent sounds woke Derek slowly and he realized with surprise that there was a heavy metal bracket around his wrist and he was chained to a wall. There were other buzzing sounds and he realized that it was mosquitoes hitting an electrified insect repellant. He blinked and swallowed. He coughed. Gagging. His mouth was tacky and dry.

The world was bright. Way too bright. He closed his eyes against it. Shutting them tight. Fingers grabbed his jaw forcing his mouth open. He tried to pull away but found that his body wasn’t reacting the way it should. He still felt out of it. Disconnected. Cold, tacky fluid was pushed down his throat and he gagged, choking on it.

He squinted his eyes open and only saw a blurry shape in front of him. Derek couldn’t quite figure out where he was or who was in front of him before the world receded into a dark hole again and he knew nothing more.

****

**Eve’s Restaurant**

The clinking of glasses rang through the restaurant along with a resounding “Cheers!” The engagement party was in full swing. Dressed in smart casual suit Stiles tried to focus on Heather and what her parents were saying something about mergers and linoleum floor boards. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get that mysterious phone call from Derek out of his head. Parrish had told him that Derek would be here and in a weird way it would have reassured him to see him in the room. It would’ve been a symbol. A brick on the road to a new friendship between them. One they were both trying to build starting with previous night’s rehearsal drinks.

A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned and found his father giving him a considered look, he looked from Stiles to Heather and her parents. “Do you mind if I borrow my boy for a moment?” Heather waved them away after placing a cold kiss on his cheek.

His father guided him through the crowd of well wishes and pushed him outside into the winter air. Into a private courtyard at the back of the restaurant suited for outdoor dining even in the winter. “What’s up with you? Cause I gotta say, kid, you don’t look happy tonight.”

Stiles twisted his lips considering a reply and his hesitation made his father’s shoulders fall a little. “Jesus. Kid. You gotta let him go.”

“That’s not it.” Stiles said hastily. “That’s… It’s just…”

“So it is about him.” There was a clear rebuke in his voice.

“No… well.” Stiles shrugged, he pulled out his phone and then pulled up the call with Derek. “Listen to this.”

The Sheriff’s face twisted when he saw the name on the screen, but he took the phone and held it to his ear. Listening, his face tightened in concern and he glanced from the phone to Stiles. “Play it again.”

Feeling justified in his own instincts, Stiles did. After another listen the Sherriff sighed. “And no one’s thought to check on him?”

Reading the answer on his son’s face. The Sherriff held up a hand. “Don’t panic yet.” Then he pulled out his own phone and placed a call through to the dispatch. “I’ll get a unit to check on him. It could be nothing.”

Stiles felt a little of the worry lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, Dad.”

Pushing Stiles back towards the restaurant, the Sheriff gave him a quick one armed hug. “No problem.”   They were met by Scott, who was exiting the restaurant apparently looking for them.

“Everything all right?” He asked after quickly appraising them then he frowned suddenly. “Oh, no... not another body?”

Stiles shivered at the words despite himself. “No.” He said shaking his head. “Everything’s fine.”

“He’s worried about Derek.” The Sheriff said at the same time.

Scott’s mouth dropped open. “But, what…. Why?” He sidled closer and lowered his voice even though no one could here. “This is your engagement party, dude.”

“I know.” Stiles answered frustrated. “I know that. It’s just…”

The Sheriffs’ phone chose that exact moment to beep. He shot them both a look and gestured to Stiles to finish the explanation. Stiles did so quickly and efficiently keeping his eyes on his father who had stepped away to take the call.

“So he butt dialed you?” Scott finally asked when he finished.

Stiles countered that argument with a quick shake of his head. “He called me and it sounded like a scuffle.”

“There’s a unit at his apartment and apparently he was a no show at work today.” The Sheriff said coming back to them with a frown his eyes zeroing in on Scott. “Kira didn’t mention it?”

“Day off,” Scott stated in the short silence that followed that statement. “But… The elephant in the room time? Maybe Derek just needed to get away?” He waved a hand towards Stiles and back inside to the party. They could just hear the murmur ebb and flow of voices floating out.

“No. That’s…. just no.” Stiles disagreed immediately. He didn’t know what to say to make them agree with him. Scott and his father stared at him doubt written all over their faces then shrugged helplessly. “I just have a feeling, that’s all.”

Scott exchanged a look with his father and then he rolled his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“I’m coming with you.” Lydia’s voice startled them and all three men turned and saw her at the door watching them with a strange expression.

“Lydia—“ Scott began unsurely. He caved at the look that she gave him daring him to disagree.

Stiles clapped his hands together relieved. “Okay. Excellent. Because I better get back inside.” He could see through the restaurants bay window Heather watching him with a curious astute gaze. He smiled and she half-heartedly smiled returned it. Lydia followed his gaze and nodded in agreement and then tapped his arm while pulling on her coat. “Jordan and Malia are going to check on Peter.”

****

**Somewhere in Beacon Hills**

The sound came in and out again and Derek woke slowly. He still felt drugged. Disconnected. He was being moved. Carried over a broad muscular shoulder heading thumping up and down on their back. He must’ve mad a sound because the steps sped up.

The floor was familiar. Polished concrete. He’d seen it before. He just couldn’t remember where. His kidnapper stopped and there were short pause and the punch of what sounded like a key code being punched into a pad. He tried to move and to break away from the hold. But, he’s body once again refused to cooperate. He didn’t understand what he’d been given to make him so docile. His hands were still bound. Shackled.

A door was pushed open and then he was being moved again. The door closing behind him. He tried to raise his head and track the path they’d taken, but he couldn’t lift his head. Then he was being lowered ungently down to the ground. He landed with a thump. Head thwacking against the floor. One of his wrists was grabbed and there was that clink of metal again.

Blinking hard he tried to gain his bearings and wake up. To Derek's utter surprise, he saw what looked to be Danny chaining him to a heavy looking metal bracket in a brick wall. Danny caught him staring and his smile wasn’t kind. “Sorry. The guards might’ve caught us.”

He tried to speak and no sound came out. Danny seemed to understand his dilemma and he patted his head like you would a dog. “Don’t worry. You’ll know soon.”

****

**Eve’s Restaurant**

Stiles really tried to focus on his engagement party and it was almost time for speeches. He and Heather worked the room like the happy couple they were supposed to be and on some level, he was having fun. It was just difficult to focus knowing that two of his best friends weren’t there and that they could be in danger. His mind shied away from saying the “D” word.

Heather’s arm tightened around his waist. “Has there been a development?”

“A what...No.” Stiles pretended to play dumb. The safer choice he thought. It only made Heather look at him like he’d forgotten to load the dishwasher again.

“None of your friends are here and they were twenty minutes ago,” Heather hissed softly.

"What do you mean Kira's right there."

"Scott, Lydia... Malia?"

“In the bathroom?” Stiles suggested the blatant lie made Heather raise her eyebrows.

“All of them? All at once.”

Before he could say anything and dig himself deeper, else Kira interrupted.

“Sorry. Your Dad said it’s time for speeches?”

Stiles winced and thought to himself this was going to be awkward with Heather already annoyed at him. Twenty minutes later he was proven right, but not in the way that he’d ever thought possible. Heather was staring at his engagement gift to her like it was breaking her heart in the worst possible way. Forgetting about the audience around them, Stiles stepped closer and grabbed her hand. She shuffled backwards slightly. “Don’t you … what’s wrong?”

“This… this…” Heather’s eyes were full of tears. “The photo’s beautiful.”

He knew that. It was why he’d chosen it.

“But… this…” Heather’s hand trailed down the message he’d written and had framed alongside it. “This… this isn’t about me.”

“It is… Of course, it is…” The protest falling quickly from his lips. The same words he’d said to Lydia earlier.

Heather’s fingers rested against his cheek. “These words are for someone else.”

“What are you…” Stiles asked, but Heather cut him off as she glanced down at the phrase.

“You think our symbol is a forest… a piece of land?”

“Babe, is this the best time?” Stiles began glancing about the restaurant. It was utterly silent no one seemed to be breathing at all. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the kitchen and towards the back and outside into the small outdoor dining area. It was freezing and cold since he’d forgotten to grab an overcoat having to take off his jacket earlier. At least, out here there was, at least, some noise and protection from the prying eyes.   She allowed it and then wrenched her hand from his.

“What was the first day you spoke to Derek?”

“Heather, come on. I love you.”

“Where were you?” She repeated again, her eyes still sad and becoming ever so weary.

“The Preserve,” He answered forcing the words out and then clarified. “On his property.”

“What did he say to you?”

“This is private property.” Stiles said without having to think about it. The moment was etched into his brain. It was probably carved on Scott’s as well.

“The first line of this letter… it’s about a forest and how it changed your path.” She smiled as a tear tracked down her cheek. “We met in kindergarten, don’t you remember? In a sandbox. I’m sorry Stiles.” She slipped off the engagement ring. “I can’t marry you.”

She pushed the ring into his hand and automatically his hand clenched around it. His heart thundered in his ears. Pounding. He’d been writing this letter for her. He honestly couldn’t comprehend where she was coming from. He felt frozen. Leaning up, Heather placed a soft kiss on his cheek and then leant in and whispered. “I’m sorry.” She stepped away and with those words she vanished back into the restaurant.

He felt numb trying to compute what had just happened. Heather had left him. She’d dumped him actually. She’d dropped him at their engagement party. It almost felt like he’d been left at the altar. Then Scott and Lydia came running out the back door and almost ran straight into him.

“Stiles. Malia just called… Peter is missing.” Scott steadied Stiles' forward motion only barely.

Sliding the ring into his pocket. “Eh...How is that possible?”

His father following Stiles out frowned at him taking in his demeanor and choosing not to comment on it. “Also. Derek’s car has been found across the street. No sign of him.”

Compartmentalizing, Stiles pushed aside his grief about Heather and focused on being a cop. It was his training after all. He hated himself for saying it. “Is there a chance that Peter took Derek or…”

“Derek took Peter?” Scott finished. Both men looked to the Sheriff for his viewpoint and he looked at them.

The Sheriff considered it. “I think there is somebody else in play here. With those gifts… someone’s being targeting Derek and making it look like he’s losing it.”

Scrubbing a shaky palm of his hand at his forehead, Stiles took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “But, who hates him that much?”

Lydia frowned and her gaze narrowed in on Stiles. “I think it’s more than that… who hates you or us that much?”

****

**Somewhere in Beacon Hills**

Now solidly awake, but still feeling disconnected from limbs that felt sluggish and cumbersome, Derek watched Danny grind some ingredients into a paste in a pestle and mortar.   Derek swallowed, mouth dry. “What…”

His voice made Danny's eyes snap to him. The kind, gentle man that Derek had thought he’d known had vanished. There was malice in his eyes that reminded him of an Argent.

Kate Argent. His skin prickled in goosebumps.

“Oh, good you’re awake.” Danny stood a gloved hand delving into the ingredients and swiping up some of the contents. He mixed it into a glass of water. He stalked towards Derek, who found himself staring definitely up him raising his chin. Danny smiled, bitterness dancing in his eyes. “I think I know what Stiles’ sees in you now.”

With a strong grip, he forced Derek to open his mouth and he forced him to drink and swallow the mixture. Derek could feel the effects of it immediately the room going soft and spacey. His head fell back and he groaned and the room slipping away.

“That’s it.” Danny murmured. “That’s it.” His hand came to rest on Derek’s chest over his heart. Derek wanted to shake him off, but he was powerless and then he saw her.

Allison Argent.

She was walking towards him over Danny’s shoulder.

She knelt down beside him. Pale white hand reaching out and resting on his shoulder. He jolted at the icy tendril of her touch. He didn’t howl. He screamed as his body felt like it lit up on the inside like an electric current.

 


	13. “Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Stiles, Lydia, Scott and the rest of the pack work to find out why Derek was kidnapped they are shocked when help comes from an unusual source, Peter.

Chapter 13

 “Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace"

 

 

In the locker room of the Sherriff’s department, Stiles took a moment to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe in and out.

He had made a clumsy excuse about needing to change his shirt and had ducked into the only quiet space that had been available. He'd appreciated that no one had called him on it.

Outside in his Dad’s office Stiles knew that Scott, Lydia, Malia, Parrish and his father were rehashing the night’s events trying to find a clear outline of Derek's movements. When Scott had been updating what he and Lydia had found when he’d looked for Derek at his apartment, Stiles had needed a moment. He could feel the shallow breaths of a panic attack starting, and he needed to get out of the too small office.

Derek’s apartment had been how he’d left it.

A shiver of fear clawed at him. Stiles slowed his breathing again.

Inhale. Exhale.

He tried to temper down the fear for Derek. It was startling how new it felt, this fear.

Stiles could remember times recently when things like this had happened, with Scott, with Malia even, and it hadn’t felt like this. Derek being gone worryingly felt final and that terrified him on a level he didn’t want or couldn't grasp. He’d moved on with Heather, but he had known, had always known that Derek would mean something to him. Love didn’t fade. It just changed form. That’s what he’d told himself at 3 am in the morning at any rate.

Stiles glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing midnight, and they were no closer to figuring out where Peter had absconded too and finding Derek.

He had to find Derek and then he could deal with Heather. She’d left him.

_We met in a sandbox… don’t you remember?_

_This is private property._

He tugged the diamond ring out of his pocket. The gold glinted and shined. The rock twinkled at him.

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe.

He huffed out a sigh and then placed the ring in a small box that he kept his watch and other memory pieces.   This wasn't how he’d imagined the night of his engagement party panning out. If anything, he had probably thought that it was going to end up in the vicinity of a bed or couch. He hadn’t thought he end up back here in this locker room locking away the engagement ring in a box in his locker. He fastened the lid and returned the box to its shelf. He then pulled out his shoulder holster slid it on and then ensure his gun was secured.

He turned grabbing his jacket and exiting the locker room he was confronted by Lydia resting against the wall next to the door, evidently waiting for him.

“Lyds?”

She tilted her head in that way she had when she heard something no one else could.

Stiles stepped in front of her wary of touching her when she was moving into a trance. Her eyes focused on him and then drifted away. She heard something.

“What do you hear?”

She shook head. Adamant. Her mouth pressing into a thin line. She was refusing to scream.

He stepped forward crouching down a little, so he was in her field of vision. “Scream, Lydia.”

Always finely attuned to him, he felt more than saw Scott’s head snap up from where he was standing in the Sherriff’s office gaze zeroing in on them and more specifically Lydia.

She shook her head again. Pale skin, becoming clammy. Her eyes were wide with fear expressing what she couldn’t say. It was the same fear that he felt.

“We’ll find him,” Stiles promised. “Just like last Mexico, remember?”

She shook her head again. Clamping her lips tight. Balking at it. She wavered a little fighting the compulsion and then when Scott appeared beside his shoulder, Stiles spared him a brief sidelong glance. “Scream for me.” Stiles urged, “you can do it.”

Closing her eyes, Stiles and Scott braced themselves as Lydia screamed resounded out at a sub-human level. Scott dropped to his knees covering his ears, and Stiles jolted himself and grimaced even though he was prepared for it. It still made his ears hurt.

Abruptly, she stopped and grabbed onto Stiles arm her eyes wide with focus. “Water,” She said, puzzled. “Water.”

Exchanging a look with Scott, who had risen and had carefully wrapped an arm around Lydia’s waist as she wavered from the effort to focus, Stiles clarified. “Still water or running water?”

She made a whooshing gesture with her hand which apparently meant running water and then paused staring upwards. “Log books,” She muttered.

Following her gaze, Stiles cursed realizing what she apparently thought as he watched the little red dot on the security camera move back and forth. Stiles nodded already running to grab his keys.

“Dad?” Stiles called to his father who appeared in the doorway within a moment. “Did we ever get those records about who else visited Peter at Eichen House?”

Eyes narrowing, the Sheriff nodded and moved back to his desk pulling up a file on his computer. “It’s funny you mentioned that…”

“Why?” Malia piped up from where she was considering the photos of the dead bodies on his desk.

“’Cause,” The Sheriff countered pushing the photos back into the folder pointedly, “It came through this afternoon. Stiles, you should have it.”

Grabbing his tablet from his desk, Stiles pulled up the records as Lydia peered over his shoulder. Rapidly reading the text, he frowned. Checked it again. Before he could say anything, Lydia spoke incredulously.

“Danny visited Peter? _Danny_ did.”

“Maybe he was just doing an internship thing… like Lydia did in New York.” Scott speculated.

The Sherriff discounted that with a soft shake of his head. “No, he’s been visiting him pretty regularly for the last six months.”

“Shit.” Stiles handed Lydia the tablet thinking hard. Danny visited Peter. Multiple times. He paced for a moment. Rapidly thinking through the facts of the case that had taken on a whole new meaning. Pulling a hand through his hair, he gripped it in sudden realization. “Shit.”

“What?” His father asked. “What?”

Realizing that he had an audience and that everyone was watching him, he dropped his hand and directed his next question to Malia. “Peter’s obsessed with Derek, that’s what you said, right? You said, and I quote… ‘He’s weirdly focused on him.’” He emphasized the last part by using his hands as quotation marks.

Malia nodded carefully, hesitant to lead them wrong. “Well, … that’s not new—“

“When did it start?” Stiles cut in. “Why’d you feel the need to mention it now?”

“Because Derek was coming ho--…” Malia began, but Lydia interrupted this time.

“No.” Lydia shot a glance at Stiles following his train of thought. “No… when did he ask after him?”

After a moment’s thought, Malia said. “I guess… about four or five months ago…”

Lydia snapped her fingers. “That’s right after Danny started visiting Peter.”

“I don’t understand what that …should I have said something sooner?” Malia’s confusion was understandable. Stiles couldn’t blame her why the hell was Danny visiting Peter and, more importantly, why.

At the hesitant silence, Malia’s face crumbled in distress and Scott placed a handed on her shoulder in comfort. “You couldn’t have known.”  

Stiles moved to the map that was behind the Sherriff’s desk regarding it thoughtfully. He glanced at Lydia. “You still hear water?”

“Yes.” Lydia muttered and then reaching out touched the board in thought. Her hands trailed over the markings that indicated water and then grabbing a white board marker, Stiles followed it. It was the same marking as what had been found at each of the crime scenes. Stepping back, they considered their handiwork and then said at the same time. “Currents.”  

Scott rested a hand on the lines. “Does that mean he’s an emissary?”

“If he is, kid, what does he want with Derek?” The Sherriff asked gravely.

Before Stiles could answer he felt what could only be described as a fist around his heart.

Stiles could see Scott wince clutching at his chest, uselessly.

Before he couldn’t focus anymore. He gasped.

It felt like pressure.

The unrelenting pressure around his heart.

He staggered and only a startled Lydia gripping his waist kept him upright. “Stiles!” She exclaimed worriedly.

Malia moving fast caught Scott before he swiped the contents of the Sherriff’s desk onto the floor. “Scott?!”

His father who had already moved to stand beside him steadied him along with Lydia.

Stiles and Scott ignored them all staring at one another as the fist was seemingly unclenched. Stiles pressed a hand to his heart as if to reassure himself that it was still okay. Scott echoed his motion rubbing his chest.

“Holy shit. He’s trying to wake it up.”” Stiles breathed out while Scott recovering faster said at the same time. “Did you feel that?”  

“Waking up what?” Malia was keeping a steadying hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“The tree,” Lydia said in realization as Stiles grimly nodded.

“The Nemeton?” His Dad asked and rested a firm hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Yeah.” Stiles breathed out. “Fuck. What’s he’s doing to Derek?”

 

***

 

Derek couldn’t scream any longer, throat raw.

He felt like he was losing time.

It could have been moments or hours. The pain was nothing like he’d felt before and through it all Allison watched him. Her hand on his shoulder sending shards of ice through his body. It felt like she was draining him. It felt like his life was being used as a live wire current.  

To his bewildered mind he couldn’t understand why she was here and for what purpose.

He must have said as much because Danny, who had been working at the nearby bench laughed, but chose not to answer, Derek hadn’t expected him too.

To Danny and Derek’s surprise, someone else did.

Someone that Derek was not expecting.

Peter.

“Why am I never invited to the party?” He smiled all teeth.

Derek had never been so relieved to see him in his life.

Danny shot to his feet reaching for a taser, but Peter was faster.

Then he lost track of what happened because Allison’s grip tightened on his shoulder and she pressed cool lips to his ear and whispered three words he hadn’t expected.

“Protect them, Please.”

Her face twisted, and she placed a hand over his heart, a cold sucking grip and after she did Derek knew no more.

 

***

 

“I told you, I'm all right!” Stiles pushed Kira’s stethoscope away and tried to stand. He was pushed back down gently by Kira who realized was surprisingly powerful despite her stature.

“Your heart is still a little….”

Stiles shrugged her off. “It’s okay.”

From where she was studying the board, Lydia murmured. “He’s using the currents… which means…”

The Sherriff tapped the board. “One of three places then.”

Finally succeeding in pushing his way past Kira, Stiles moved to consider the board.

Lydia hands hovered over the board and nodded. “Where …” She hesitated to glance at Scott then Stiles.

“Where Allison died,” Scott said, clasping onto Kira’s hand seeking comfort.

“Eichen House.” The Sherriff rubbed at his brow, dismissing his own suggestion. “Can’t be there, too public.”

“The university.”

“But...” Stiles wondered, “Where? It’s way too obvious for him to go to his lab.”

“If you must know….”

A new voice announced making them all turn and had Stiles automatically pulling out his weapon, along with his father and Parrish all of them ready to engage a hostile.

They found Peter in the doorway, observing them with a studied air of casual indifference.

“If you must know..” He held up his hands placating. “He was in the basement laboratory. Kind of cliché if you ask me.”

“What have you done with him?” Stiles hissed furiously, stepping forward gun still raised. “Where is he?”

Peter smiled balefully. “Wasn’t it your engagement party tonight? Did I miss it?”

Gun lowering the Sheriff stepped forward, Scott and Stiles flanking him. “You’re breaking the terms of your release.”

A cruel delighted laugh erupted out of Peter. “Oh, am I?” He lowered his hands only slightly, locking gazes with Stiles and then Scott. “Seems to be I’m the one that found him. The family looks after its own, after all.”

The dig was aimed to hurt. Stiles tried not to show him that he’d hit the mark. His father lowered his shoulder and muttered a quiet “easy.”

Malia, however, wouldn’t be appeased. She surged forward with a growl and only Kira stepping in front of her blocking her movement made her halt. “Where is he?” She hissed her fangs protruding. Her claws hand sprung free, and Stiles knew that she was itching to take him down.

“Oh, on the sofa,” Peter said waving to the break room where there was only one soft sofa.

Stiles wanted to slap him for making them wait and he could feel his hand flexing around the weapon. He holstered it as the need to find Derek outweighed that feeling. He pushed past Peter, Lydia and Kira following him out of the office.

Scott, however, had no such qualms. He punched Peter forcefully. “You’re a dick.”

Glancing behind, Stiles saw his father and Parrish nod at him. Parrish was already pulling out his handcuffs.

Peter laughed. “You think that can hold me.”

Parrish's response was quick. “Hell, yeah.” He laughed. “Wolfsbane..."

Anything else they said was lost to him as Stiles reached the breakroom.

Stiles hesitated on the threshold – worried about what he’d find. Lydia’s small firm hand on his back pushed him forward and then he saw him.

Derek was lying haphazardly on the sofa. There was no doubt that he hadn’t even moved from when Peter had thrown him down, which didn’t bode well.

“Oh fuck,” He whispered. Falling to his knees by the sofa Stiles’s hand hovered Derek’s forehead clocking everything, to the gash on his forehead that wasn’t healing. The sweat on his brow. Slick hair. He was pallid. Ghostly. Breathing shallowly. The lines of tension that spoke of bone-deep bodily pain.

Kira shoved Stiles sideways gently, beginning to check Derek’s vitals in a practiced manner, pulling out her EMT bag. “Derek?” She asked firmly while her hands moved over his body.” Derek? Can you hear me?” She rested her head over his heart listening intently. She frowned.

“What?” Lydia asked concerned.

“It’s… kind of…” She frowned glancing between Stiles and Scott, who had just appeared in the doorway. “It’s irregular,” She said finally.

Malia frowned, “It’s more than that.” She crouched down next to Kira and reached out to rest a hand over Derek’s heart listening intently. Her gaze moved to Scott and Stiles head tilted as she monitored him. She moved her hand away from Derek and stood up stepping away to make room again for Stiles “It sounds like them, Scott and Stiles. You’re in sync.”

At that, Lydia frowned. “How…” Her eyes widened with sudden realization. Slowly and with reluctance, she grabbed Stiles hand and then reached down to rest her other hand on Derek’s shoulder.

Stiles frowned not sensing anything particularly peculiar. “I don’t think—“

Lydia’s voice cut him off as she jolted like an electric current had surged through her. “Allison,” She whispered, staring straight ahead at something only she could see.

The utterance of her name made Scott shudder, turning away face slack with grief.

Stiles wrenched his hand free from Lydia’s sudden slack hold. “No… No.“

Shaking herself out of the almost trance, Lydia looked at Kira. “Peter didn’t stop him.”

“What…” Scott began, then stopped abruptly as his eyes snapped back to Derek. “Uhhh….”

Before he could say anything else, Derek jolted to consciousness. He opened his eyes and then balked violently shrinking away from Kira, who had leaned in to check on him. His gaze was darting back and forth, bewildered. Confused.

Stiles intercepted her gently pushing her aside. “Hey,” He said to Derek, cajoling. “You’re safe. You’re home.”   He tried to catch his gaze to reassure him, but Derek wasn’t listening. He was staring past him. Impossibly his face became a shade whiter. “Hey,” Stiles said firmly. “Hey.”

Derek ignored him. Stiles frowned following his gaze and then he realized that Derek was staring at the spot where Lydia had seemingly seen Allison. He raised his eyebrows at Scott incredulous who nodded that he got it.

“Shit,” Kira said, her hand checking Derek’s pulse at his wrist. “He’s crashing.”

“Allison.” Derek’s voice trembled with fear. “She… She”

Stiles rested his hands on Derek’s face. “Shhhh. It’s okay. Look at me Derek. Look at me. We’re here okay?!”

“Stiles…” Scott whispered…. “She’s here.”

“What..”

Derek’s eyes darted to Stiles and away again back to where Allison seemingly stood and then he flinched at something that he couldn’t see, trying to scuttle away from something. He almost fell off the sofa in his attempt to escape and was caught between Stiles and Kira, who scrambled to stop his fall. “No. Don’t let her…” He pleaded and then he let out a gut wrenching scream as the fabric on his shoulder indented like someone was gripping it tight.

At the same time, Stiles felt it again a fist around his heart. The only saving grace was that it seemed to be weaker in its power. It was still enough to have him double over and press a hand to his heart while still trying to support Derek. Lydia caught him, and he watched helplessly as Kira took over easing Derek down onto the floor as he continued to convulse screaming.

Malia caught Scott as he too staggered.

Within second the pressure eased and stopped leaving Stiles gasping. He watched a fury growing inside him as Derek continued to scream in pain.

Scott crouched down and reached out to suck of the pain from him, but Kira stopped him grabbing his hand before he could rest it on his shoulder.

“We don’t know what’s been done to him.”

“Kira..” Scott began only to be interrupted by Lydia.

“She’s right.” Lydia’s eyes met Stiles’, “We have to let him scream.”

 ***

 

It had taken an agonizing fifteen minutes for Derek to stop screaming. He was still pallid, and his breathing was shallow according to Kira. She sat cross-legged beside the couch ready to act if Derek needed something. Scott knew that if he weren't a werewolf, Derek would likely be in a coma or worse. The words hadn’t comforted anyone in the room, least of all Stiles from what Scott could tell.

“Why now?” Scott wondered. “Why do any of this now?”

“Revenge is a cold dish, Scotty,” Stiles remarked, eyes remaining on where Derek was still unconscious on the sofa as he sat on the arm rest next to his head. Scott watched as Stiles' right hand flexed as if he wanted to reach out touch Derek.

“It’s not about revenge… He’s dying.” Lydia announced returning into the room with a tray of coffees and effectively shutting down all further conversation.

“And killing us will help him how?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“How do you know that?” The Sherriff demanded.

“Medical records indicate that he’s been on a transplant list since high school and was kicked off about six months ago.”

“Did it say why?” Malia said, watching Peter sit in the Sherriff’s office.

“He’s got hepatitis, means that he’s now basically ineligible and with his heart condition already--”

“What about Ethan…” Scott wondered.  

“But he looked so healthy.” Stiles frowned. “He’s probably already being using magic.”

“Probably, and they broke up in high school and as far as I can tell haven’t been in contact since. “ Lydia explained, taking a long sip of her coffee.

“Oh, Jesus,” Stiles muttered his left hand was moving to pass through Derek’s hair when he shifted and let out a small groan.   “Shhh..” He soothed.

Scott watched as he crouched down beside Derek trying to ease him out of a potential nightmare. He wondered when the reality of Heather leaving him would hit Stiles not anytime soon while Derek and they were all in danger.

“So, what do we do?” Scott rubbed at his chest, his hand absently moving to his shoulder.

“He’s not trying to hurt us.” Lydia disagreed.

“He’s just using us.” Stiles finished for Lydia eyes darting back to Derek as he pressed the back of his hand to forehead. “He’s using our sacrifice to heal himself like…”

“Jennifer.” Scott agreed.

Malia frowned at them all. “Why not just ask us for help, then?”

“He probably thought we’d say no.” Kira brushed her hair from her face. It made her seem years younger.

“Well, yeah,” Scott answered, trying not to roll his eyes. “If we knew this was the outcome.”

“Black magic is a dangerous road,” Peter said.

Scott turned and found Peter watching him from the Sherriff’s office with a considered gaze.

Parrish and the Sheriff who were in the office exchanged a confused glance then at him.

Scott looked at Malia, who indicated her head to show that she was also listening.

“What?” Stiles said.

“How do we help him?” Scott asked Peter softly. “How do we help Danny.”

“You can’t,” Peter answered.

“Why—“

“Not without killing yourselves and Derek. You’re all connected, including Allison even in death.”

“Scott, don’t listen…” Stiles began.

“He’s right, though.” Malia agreed cutting in using her own abilities to listen in to the conversation.

“About what?” Lydia and Stiles asked confused unable to hear Peter’s side of the conversation. They shared a frustrated glance.  “About _what_?”

Scott exchanged a glance with Malia and then breathed out. “We have to kill Danny.”

 

 


	14. What Do You Go Home To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Scott and Lydia take desperate measures to save Derek and themselves from Danny's plan. Lydia confesses a secret to Stiles and Kira struggles not to be jealous of Allison's connection to Scott. Derek learns that Heather left Stiles.

  
Chapter 14

"What Do You Go Home To?"

A soft murmur of voices woke Derek. He tensed as his memory of the previous few hours flooded back. He tried to open his eyes and found that they were gritty, stuck together with sleep. He lifted a hand to wipe them and realized that there was a blanket over him and that he was in a bedroom that he failed to recognize. A tug on his other arm made him frown, and then he realized that there was a drip in his arm. He sat up and hissed when his entire body ached with the movement. Confused, he pulled at the IV drip, removing it with a practiced hand. The blood that immediately pooled at the incision made him queasy. He closed his eyes and willed his stomach to settle and tried to gather his scattered flying thoughts.

What the hell had happened? Where was he? Who was out there?

He felt like he should be afraid, but the scent in the room comforted him.

Although, he noted with resignation that he still felt odd. Disconnected. Not quite there within his body. It only lasted a moment before he’s awareness came crashing back into abused and tortured muscles.

Danny. He’d been abducted by Danny.

Using the end of the bed, he leveraged himself to his feet. Wavered. His stomach once again cruising up and down like an Atlantic storm. He had to get out of this room. He had to get out and get away. Let someone know.

Sucking in a pained breath. He took a step and wavered only his grip on the bed keeping him standing again. He felt like his bones were weary and cumbersome. A feeling he hadn’t had since Kate had turned him human. He flexed his claws, unconsciously, checking. But, something had been done to him, of that he was certain.

There was a bone-deep feeling of coldness within him that was unsettling.

Unnatural.

Blinking, he tried to focus. As Derek's eyes were adjusting, he saw that the bedroom door had been left open a crack. He frowned at the pictures on the wall, squinting. Not quite seeing them at this distance. His abilities were curtailed. He frowned, he felt like he should recognize this place and then all at once a memory returned.

_Laughter. Stiles pushing him down on a bed, kissing his neck._ _The light filtering in through the window as Stiles unbuttoned his shirt._

_Sucking sharp, smiling kisses in the hollow of his throat._ _Whispered words against his chest. “Come on, Der. Relax.”_

Derek sucked in a breath between his teeth. It was the Stilinski house. He was in the guest bedroom by the looks of the décor which hadn’t changed in years. He sat back down on the bed, the exertion of standing taking it out of him. He needed food. He started in surprise at a shout from Scott.

“We’re not killing Danny!”

Stiles answer was just as loud and verbose. “Then what do you suggest, Scott?! Huh? We go all Han Solo? Danny’s killing him, attacking us, we have to break the link…”

“I have an idea,” Lydia announced cutting both men off. “Danny—“

Derek flinched remembering the way Danny had leered at him as he began chanting. He felt his heart start to pound. He had to get out. He had to tell them he was awake.

“Hey. Hey.”

A soft hand on his forehead made him startle again like a dog at a loud noise. The hand moved from his head to his shoulder to reassure and Derek full body flinched. The hand rose again, removing itself.

“Hey, hey.” A soft, soothing voice. “Just breathe, okay.”

Disorientated, Derek frowned and cracked his eyes. It took him a moment to place her in the filtered light. “Kira? I'm all right.”

She snorted in that not so inelegant way she had. “Your heart rate’s through the roof, you’re disorientated, and you can barely stand, not to mention …”

Derek touched her hand. “What’s going on?”

“You need to rest,” Kira answered instead, guiding him back to lie down on to the bed.

He wanted to resist her; he wanted to say that he was okay. But, he was drained. Exhausted.The bedroom door was pushed open, and Stiles entered frustration in the lines of his shoulders. He pushed a hand through his hair that way he had when he was deep in thought. He bodily froze when he saw them both watching him.

“He just woke up.” Kira told him; there was an obvious relief in her voice. “He’s still out of it, okay… so just…”

Derek frowned at them, both. “I’m…” Damn it. His words slurred, and he tried again. “I’m all right.”

Stiles slowly sank down on the edge of the bed as Kira reinstated the IV drip. “Sure, you are, tough guy.” Stiles' hand hovered over him before he just reached grasping it, sliding his fingers through his. His hand was hot and warm.

Without thinking about it, he gripped Stiles hand hard. “Stiles?”

Stiles fingers strained and flexed around his; his gaze moved to Kira. “Can we have a minute?”

Kira frowned at Stiles. “Just tell us.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows at her in surprise at her response.

Kira’s hand moved to Derek’s shoulder unconsciously reassuring. “He’s my partner.”

The words were surprisingly comforting to Derek, who hadn’t really been sure of his and Kira’s relationship since he’d return. It was the first time he felt that Kira valued him as much as Scott and Stiles and definitely since she’d confronted him about what she’d seen in the alley. She glanced down bashful suddenly about declaring her allegiance so vocally to Stiles, who looked oddly pleased with her words sending her a brief smile. Confused, Derek tried to sit up again and with ease, they both pushed him back down. Disgruntled at his own weakness, it came out in his tone. “What’s going on?”

After weighing his options, Stiles finally shrugged an answer. “We have a plan of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”   Kira probed.

“Yeah and we need Derek to make it work.”

“But, what about your engagement drinks?” Derek asked genuinely confused, then watched baffled as Kira raised her eyebrows at Stiles. “I mean… the party.”

“That’s…” Stiles’ voice cut off and then he shrugged, apparently not quite sure what to say.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Kira filled it.

“She left him at the altar… I mean… you know... if it had been a wedding, which it wasn’t, but—“ Kira began and her answer made Derek even more confused. She touched Stiles’ hand in sympathy. “I mean she pretty much left you, right? She said something about the way you had met … Something about the first day you two met, private property… I’m not entirely sure what that meant, what did that mean Stiles?”

“What….” Derek shifted on the bed, tugging at the IV line pulling his hand away from Stiles. “ Did I? I’ll…”

A deep sigh escaped Stiles and he pushed Derek back with a gentle hand on the chest. “Don’t worry about that, okay? Heather and I that’s just temporary thing ....”

Kira snorted and then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

“We need you to focus on just regaining your strength.” Stiles finished pointedly at Kira. “Don’t worry about me and Het.”

Heather had left Stiles? That felt significant, but at that moment, Derek couldn’t bring himself to care. Something was profoundly wrong in Beacon Hills. He could feel it. He surveyed the room checking to see if she would appear again. “Allison—“ Derek began, “She was—“

“Danny’s using our connection to that fucking stump to heal himself, and he’s using some strange magic to do it.”

“Not just….” Derek negated that with a shake of his head, there was something else that Danny had been doing, but he couldn’t remember it. Some other reason for why he was doing this, if only he could catch the memory, but it was like the wind and it escaped him. “What’s the plan?” Derek forced the words out his breath raspy and shallow. Kira frowned and pulled out her stethoscope pressing it against his chest.

“It’s happening again,” She muttered and it was he could feel a wave of whatever it was starting again… whatever it was Danny doing.

“She loves you.” Derek struggled to sit up again and winced at the creeping feeling of coldness in his shoulder at their dual silence and then flinched again letting out a pained cry as the as icy tendrils flowed through his body in earnest as Stiles gasped pressing a hand to his own heart.

“Fuck…” Stiles gasped, reaching and grabbing Derek’s hand and holding on. “I’ve got you, okay.”

Derek couldn’t answer as he saw Allison again behind Stiles' shoulder. "No..." he slurred. "Please."    

Stiles' hand gripped him harder. "Derek... just focus on me." 

Derek tried, but Allison drifted closer. He balked unbalancing Stiles who fell forward a little struggling himself, but his grip remained firm and sure, despite everything.

“Stiles will be the anchor then,” Deaton announced from the door.

Kira stood up, protective. “He can’t do anything. Neither of them.”

Derek briefly saw Scott appear at Deaton’s shoulder before the pain became too much and he mercifully blanked out.

****

**Vet Clinic**

Three large metal baths were in the clinic room.

Two were full of ice. The third remained empty. A blaring awful reminder of what they’d lost the last time they’d gone through with this sacrifice.

Scott toed off his shoes and saw Lydia and Malia helping Derek do the same. He eyed the empty tub and watched as Kira, standing next to him did the same, her eyes wide and mournful.

Deaton had insisted that it had needed to be there to complete the ritual to mirror the first sacrifice. Scott wasn’t nearly as confident, but Lydia and Stiles had agreed with silent and in sync concurring nods. It had been Kira who had surprisingly offered the most vocal disagreement.

Kira had railed at them at him really, this was a terrible idea. They were all too weak, she had insisted and she hadn’t been talking about Derek. She was talking about their connection.

Their marriage.

She didn’t believe she could pull him back from the other world … from her.

Allison.

They really needed to talk, he’d really thought they’d been getting better. He’d been trying to forgive her for the accident. He’d been attempting to move past it. He realized now that he hadn’t told her any of this. His parent’s marriage had been destroyed, in part, by a lack of communication. They needed to talk and soon because somehow her silence now was worse. She didn’t trust him still. She didn’t truly believe in him.  

He remembered how Stiles and Malia had cut in, stepping between them to stop their angry words and ending their tired argument. Malia had pulled Scott away while Stiles had turned to Kira gently telling her that they had to try something and had gestured to Derek, who had been sitting on the sofa between Lydia and the Sherriff, his frailty evident and terrifying.

It had halted her argument, but not her reservations Scott knew.

With his practiced medical eye, Scott could see that Derek was on the verge of another collapse, his werewolf healing wasn’t working the way it should, wavering between fully engaging and just running on empty. Whatever Danny was doing it was draining him. Stiles and Malia hovered near him ready to steady him if he faltered. Stiles glanced at his phone when it pinged the ring tone echoing loudly. Scott watched as his face twisted in surprise, as he answered it.

“Heather?” He surveyed the room with a quick eye, mostly eyeing Derek and then strode from the room. “I’m sorry … but…. No, listen… Just hear…”

They could all hear the conversation. Scott watched as Derek turned away from them all focusing instead on the water bending down weakly to put his hand inside. Malia’s firm grip on his wrist stopped him from disturbing the water.

“Not yet.” Malia nodded at Deaton. “He’s gotta put some rosemary in.”

Derek attempted to shuck off her hand, but Malia after a firm pointed squeeze about her strength let him go.

Feeling a small warm arm snake around his waist, Scott found Kira leaning against him. “Should we start?” She asked.

“The moon is at its highest point for today.” Deaton threw a sprinkle of rosemary into each of the baths. “Now remember, your anchor is what connects you to this world. Think of it and you’ll be able to find your way back.”

Derek looked towards the doorway where Stiles' voice wafted in.

“No… sorry. Het, listen you don’t understand… There’s something… well, yes… it’s with… I can’t leave him… they all need me. Can you just come down to the Clinic …”

“What if it’s not strong enough,” Malia asked forthrightly as always.

Scott winced and glanced at Derek, who had turned a shade paler if that was possible.

“A tether can be surprisingly effective.” Lydia answered instead eyes on Derek and then Scott.

She’d been Stiles anchor, Scott recalled and that connection that thread between them still remained. He could see it sometimes in the way they interacted. It was the same with his connection to Deaton.

Stiles entered looking flustered and strained, he hesitated when he saw them all staring. “Are we doing this or what?”

Scott sighed. “Yeah.” He looked at Derek whose face reflected his own trepidation, “you ready?”

Derek gave a shrug of a shoulder as if to say yeah.

Scott shucked off his own jacket and sweater.

Stiles reaching Derek helped him yank off the worn plaid jacket that the Sheriff had given him and it had pulled his shirt down and they’d all winced when they saw the white hand print on his shoulder and arm – small, feminine.

Allison’s handprint.

“Scott?” Deaton’s melodic voice interrupted his introspection. “I think we’re ready now.”

Scott moved over to the ice bath and helped Derek hop in along with Parrish, but Stiles, was the one who eased him down and as soon as he hit the water Derek started to shiver.

Once Derek was positioned in the ice tub with Stiles crouching down behind him. Scott quickly hopped in his own ice bath, silently swearing at how cold it was. Kira gripped his hand and seeing him hesitate Stiles quickly moved to assist them as he sat in his own ice bath only letting go once he was firmly settled. “Thanks.” Stiles shot him a brief smile and then moved back to crouch down beside a blue lip tinged Derek running a hand through his hair and rest on the nape of his neck, protective and reassuring.  

Stiles hadn’t questioned why he’d been chosen they all knew that he was the strongest anchor to bring Derek back from the other side despite their distinctly currently strained relationship. He was still the greatest anchor and tie to this world against the void of the white room.

“I’ve got you, okay,” Stiles whispered softly to soft almost for human ears. “I’m right here.”

Kira’s small hand’s felt like a firebrand as she placed them on Scott’s shoulders. “Ready?” She asked, softly.

Scott looked up at her and try to show her how he felt, but on some level, the opportunity to see Allison excited him and he knew that he failed to hide that when her eyes fell away from his and focused on the way Derek was being held by Stiles.

“I love you.” Scott grasped Kira’s hand, drawing her gaze back to him. There was doubt there, but hopefully not enough to affect their anchor.

“I love you too,” She whispered her voice betraying her uncertainty.

Then with a small tremulous smile, she pushed him under the water and in the periphery of his vision, he could Stiles force Derek smoothly out of view. Scott tried to focus on Kira and their connection, but like last time… the pull of the ice water and the rituals they had done prior sucked him under and Kira’s face disappeared and shimmered and became someone he hadn’t realized he so deeply missed.

Allison.

“Scott?” Her voice muffled by water sounded like a song he’d longed for and forgotten in one word. She hovered over him as he was under the water and then with a pale hand reached in hand helped pulled him out of the water. Her grasp was surprisingly strong and she pulled out him easily as if he’d weighed nothing.

“Allison?” He gasped, spluttering out the water. “Oh my god, Allison. You’re here.”

She stared at him with curious eyes. “Scott, what are you doing here?”

Distracted, he realized with quiet distress that she was still dressed in the outfit she’d died in. Trying to push that aside he glanced about and saw with surprise that there was only one ice bath in the cavernous white room. Not like last time when there had been three. “Where’s Derek?”

Allison paled, eyes widening. “He’s here?” She stopped and tilted her head. Listening. It was an unnatural movement. She’d become something else Scott realized suddenly.

Grasping her cool hand, Scott nodded and hopped out of the bath, water slopped onto the white floor.

Her hand moved up his arm, firm as if to reassure herself that he was really here. Her cool touch shivered through him.

“Why are you here?” She asked again and then there was no other word for it, she shivered like a static transmission and disappeared. Her face drew together in fear. “Derek.”

“Allison?” Scott asked, stepping closer towards her, drawn to her like always. “What’s wrong?”

****

Seeing the still faces underneath the water of the tubs was the worst part, Stiles thought. He still had his hands resting on Derek’s shoulders to keep him down, but Derek was unnaturally still. His face was ash white and it was like he was frozen in time. With a quick glance to his left Stiles saw that Scott wasn’t much better. A mop of dark hair and closed eyes. Kira made a small noise of discomfort and he raised his eyes to meet her wide-eyed wild gaze. “Do we let go?” She asked, worriedly.

Stiles had no idea. He hadn’t been on this side before, not since Isaac and that had been a completely different scenario. Malia came to Kira’s shoulder and rested a hand on it. “You’re already connected.” She looked over to Lydia and Deaton. “Right?”

Lydia nodded, sure. “You’re tethered now. The connections emotional not physical.” She said that last part to him, he could see the hesitance in her eyes. She’d always felt like she had failed him when he’d become possessed. She hadn’t been strong enough to help close the door. They’d failed each other really and in the senior year, he hadn’t been strong enough in return with her when she had gone void. He forcefully shoved that memory to the side as he reasoned their connection had been sufficient to anchor them back to the present and that had been enough in the end.

“So what … we just wait?” Stiles gripped Derek’s shoulder, feeling the wet fabric slip between his fingers as he scrambled for a better hold on him.

“For as long as it takes.” Deaton agreed.

Lydia’s phone rang, distracting them and reflexively they all glanced down to Derek and Scott entombed in the ice water, no movement. They didn’t even blink.

“Sorry.” Lydia hastily pulled out her phone and then moved to answer it in the foyer of the Clinic. “Hello, this is Lydia.”

The rest of the conversation was lost as she left the room.

He flexed his hands on Derek’s shoulder and then slowly let go and he could see Kira following his lead. Malia offered her a towel and a quick hug.

He wiped his freezing cold hands on his jeans to dry them and cracked his back as he rose.

“Refresh my memory, how long did it take last time?” Stiles asked Deaton.

“It takes as long as it takes,” Deaton beatific reply, lit the frustrated cop in him.

“Can I leave the building?”

Deaton frowned at him. “Why would you leave?”

“Are you saying I can’t.”

“How about…” Malia interrupted, “How about, I call Parrish and we go out and find Danny?”

“But…”

“That would be best.” Deaton answered. “The tether will draw energy from you Stiles. Spiritual and emotional. You may not feel it. But, you are connected.”

***

**The White Room**

“I don’t understand the connection…” Allison murmured. “Why Derek?”

“Best guess…” Scott shrugged, “We think it’s because he’s family were guardians. They protected the town and … he knew that because…”

“He’s dying.” Allison interrupted, something knowing in her voice. “He’s blood sick.”

“Yeah.” Scott said, surprised. “But…”

She glanced at him, eyes flashing cold and dark. “I felt it.”

They walking towards the stump of the Nemeton, in the hope that in reaching it they would find Derek.  

“Tell me about your life. ” Allison’s dimpled smile was a balm to Scott’s heart. “I want to hear all about it… how many kids do you have? Do you have children? Are you married? Is Stiles married? What about Lydia? Tell me…” She took his hand. “Is she okay? Please tell me she’s dumped Aiden, although if that’s her choice… I mean it's all right, it’s her choice.”

“Slow down, slow down…. “ He squeezed her cold hand a casual reminder that she was no longer burned as bright as him. He shivered as her long fingers slid around his, but forced a smile. “I’ll tell you everything.”

***

**Vet Clinic**

Kira sat cross-legged next to the ice bath. She had chosen to sit between the two baths so she could keep an eye on both of them. Unlike Stiles, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the room. It felt like she would be running away. She was alone. Deaton had gone back to his office. Malia had gone to call Parrish. Stiles to find where Lydia had run off too.

“I really hope you can hear me.” Kira whispered, twisting her hands together. “I hope we’re enough, that we’re both enough to bring you back.” She stared at the surgery table that had been pushed aside to make room she could still see Scott on that table, covered in blood. “Because, I need you, maybe not how you need me… I know it’s my fault about all of it, about her… and I’m guessing you blame me right?”

“Kira!” Malia’s voice cut off the rest of her words and she looked up to see Malia in the doorway staring at her aghast. With long strides, she moved over to sit next to her wrapping a skinny arm around her shoulders. “Scott doesn’t blame you.”

“I think he does. I feel like he does… we don’t….” She shrugged deeply uncertain about how to express what she was feeling. “He’s gone to her and I’m … And she was the first true love of his life, she’s Allison Argent. She was so beautiful, you know and I’m not her…”

Malia reached out and pulled Kira into a hug. “I’m not great at relationships, but Scott is so in love with you, it’s disgusting.”

“Allison –“

“They broke up, right?” Malia interrupted. “Before she was killed.”

“She died in his arms, saving him, saving Lydia and Stiles…. She was just such a ….”

“Yeah, I know. She was a good person.” Malia squeezed her tighter and Kira winced a little at the hug and then leant into it. “But she had flaws… I think she was kinda judgmental about stuff too, right.”

“She was really sweet.” Kira disagreed. “Her smile… it was like … I’m not her. Scott still loves her.”

“Of course, you always care about your first. I still kinda love Stiles.”

“You do?” Kira pulled away in surprise and then when Malia nodded, she hung her head a little. “Scott was my first.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah, it’s my instinct and all that, but I’ve moved on. Scott moved on and he chose to marry you and he doesn’t seem like the type to enter into that kinda thing lightly, right?”

“I know.” Kira nodded, “It’s just that…”

“Things are real weird between you. I can smell it. I think you should have some good sex and bash it out.”

“Are you…. what?” Kira shoved her away jokingly. “We…” She paused considering, they hadn’t really had sex since his accident. It had been perfunctory something they’d felt they’d had to do. A kiss on the lips, a quick caress, no they hadn’t anything real in a while.

Malia raised her hands, smirking. “I’m not wrong, though am I. You haven’t really fu--.”

“I’m not talking about this!” Kira gracefully rolled to her feet and sighed. “I’m just not sure I’m enough.”

Standing as well, Malia rested both of her hands on her shoulders. “Trust me. You are.” The front door banged shut and both women turned to see Parrish in the reception area holding up a hand in apology as he tried to reclose the door more quietly and lock it.

***

Stiles found Lydia in the kitchen hanging up her phone. She turned quickly, hiding her face and wiping her eyes. “Lydia?” He strode over and pressed a gentle hand to her back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She refused to turn. “It’s.. not important.”

“No matter what’s happening, I’ll always listen.”

She turned then glancing up at him. “I’m sorry about Heather.”

It gnawed at him that they weren’t getting it. “She’s okay. We’re fine. I mean yeah… we had a little disagreement, but --”

“What did she say?”

“Don’t play with me Lydia, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “It’s… It’s… You probably didn’t know this, but, we’ve been trying.”

“Trying…” Stiles' forehead scrunched in confusion. “Trying, for what…”

Lydia just raised her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, oh!” Stiles muttered in a surprised realization, “for a baby?”

“Melissa said if it wasn’t happening right away… that maybe we should—“

“Who was on the phone?”

“Our Doctor. An Emissary in New York, I saw them when I was…” She hesitated, eyes beginning to shine again.

“Our Doc…” Siles repeated. “There are special… I mean, of course, there are.”

“We can’t.” Lydia burst out. “It’s…”

“But –“ Stiles began floundering. “But, what about…”

“I’m Banshee. He’s a hellhound. We’re both connected to death.”

“Oh.” Stiles drew Lydia towards him and hugged her firmly. “I’m so sorry.”

Her body shook and she let out a sob. “We need a donor.”

“I’ll do it.” Stiles answered firmly. “If you need swimmers, I’ll do it.”

“I can’t ask that of you Stiles, I can’t, it’s not fair too—“

“You can always ask anything of me.”

A thumping on the door interrupted them and the found Parrish standing there looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’m just …” His gaze fell to Lydia. “You told him.”

She nodded. “I was upset.”

“Okay.” Parrish eyed Stiles, there was a deep pain in his gaze, they were both distraught about this news. “Can you please not tell anyone else yet?”

“It’s fine man.” Stiles promised. “You have my word, but you should know, we’ll find a way to make it happen for you both.”

“Sure.” Parrish nodded, “There is always a way, right.” He sounded sincere and heartbroken at the same time.

“We need to find Danny.” Lydia moved over to Parrish, who cupped her face and wiped away some residual tears. “If he's not near the stump, then he’ll be as close to it as possible.”

“Yes.” Parrish agreed and then he frowned… “But, maybe if he’s connecting to Derek…”

Stiles snapped his fingers. “The Hale house.”

“It’s gone.” Lydia frowned. “It’s an apartment block now.”

“But the energy will remain.” Stiles answered. “He’ll be there I’m sure of it.”

****

**Hale Property  
Beacon Hills**

The Sherrif’s car sped through Beacon Hills towards the remnants of the Hale House. Parrish had the sirens on full blast. Malia was riding shotgun with Lydia choosing to remain behind to look after Scott and Derek. The town was asleep. It had to be like 3 am in the morning. It was hard to believe that forty-eight hours earlier they’d been getting dressed up to go Stiles’ engagement party. With everything that had happened, she knew Stiles hadn’t really processed what had happened with Heather. When Derek and Scott were safe, when they all were, then they’d be hell to pay.

She rubbed at her eyes and saw the white-knuckle grip that Parrish had on the steering wheel. Leaning over, she sniffed his scent and frowned.

“Hey!?” Parrish exclaimed. “What the hell?”

“You smell weird. You smell like Kira.”

“I smell like Kira.”

“Yah, kinda screwy. Are you not sure Lydia loves you either?”

Parrish gawked between her and the road glancing back and forth obviously trying to process. “I’m not… Kira’s not sure about Scott.”

“The accident.” Malia gestured towards his shoulder. “What’s your excuse?”

“Do you know what, I really love the way that –“

“Do you not want kids?” Malia had eavesdropped on some of the conversation on Lydia’s phone call and heard enough to figure out what was going on.

“This is not your business.”

“I mean I was watching the news if you need eggs, I guess I could donate some right… the whole surrogacy thing… I say I've got good genes, right… and a good body…”

“I’m not talking about this.” Parrish repeated softer now, more gentle.

“I’m just…” Malia paused noting the way that Parrish had turned away and refused to look at her. “Think about it.”

“Can we please focus on Scott and Derek.”

****

**The White Room**

They’d been walking for an age it seemed to Scott. “We’re not getting any closer.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to start your own business?” She stopped staring around the room, frowning.

“I’m –“

“What are you afraid of?”

The question startled him. “Allison—“

“Because all I’m hearing is a lot of reasons why this would be a good idea, but something’s holding you back.”

“We should be talking about Derek.”

“Derek won’t be found until you address what is holding you back.”

“What.” Scott pivoted and turned staring about the room. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.” Allison turned to him, brown hair falling in her eyes. She pushed it back, an echo of a former self. “We can’t leave this room until you let go of what’s holding you back.”

“Derek needs me.”

“I needed you too, didn’t I?” Allison asked.

Scott felt his heart beat dance, quickening with grief and hurt. “What… No.”

“Lydia said you blamed Kira for your injury.”

“How do you know that?” Scott gasped as Allison slid suddenly closer, peering at him, peering into his soul.

“I’m the guardian Scott.” Allison touched his cheek. “Look at me.” He couldn’t refuse her. Her touch was cold fire. “You must face what’s holding you back.”

“Allison, don’t do this…” Trapped in her gaze, he couldn’t move.

“I can’t help you if you can’t face yourself. This isn’t you Scott. This isn’t like you.”

“This isn’t like you.” Scott threw back, hand moving to grip hers and rip it from his face. “Where is Derek.”

“What are you afraid of?” Allison smile had turned cold. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”

“No.” Scott refused, then he wilted under her gaze. “Losing the ones I love.”

She shifted then and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, a goodbye. “No one ever really dies. We change form.” She responded and the smile became warm. She stepped back and shivered like a weight had been released for her shoulders. “Look around.”

Following the order, Scott glanced about and realized with a start that they were standing at the base of the Nemeton and Derek was lying supine bound by vines upon it.

****

  **Vet Clinic**

With a thump, Malia dropped Danny’s body onto the floor of the clinic with Stiles help. They slid him so he was placed on the floor between the two ice baths that held Derek and Scott. He was unconscious from Malia’s drop kick when they’d found him and Deaton had given him an additional sedative to ensure he remained that way while they figured out how they were going to do this, reaching out Stiles checked his pulse, steady and slow.

“All right, so we’re doing this?”

Kira, who had been searching Deaton's equipment, grabbed the defibrillator, paused exchanging a look with Malia. “It was your idea.” She said.

“Yeah, stop his heart bring him back, break the root.” Malia placed a towel underneath Danny’s head.

“Cord.” Stiles corrected absently.

Malia rolled her eyes. “You’re all connected to a tree.”

“Point.” Stiles agreed.

“And you’re sure we can revive him?” Lydia asked Kira.

Kira shrugged, uncertainly. She began unpacking the equipment for the defibrillator. “This is kind of a grey area, but yeah in theory.”

Stiles began to pour a circle of mountain ash around each of the ice baths at Malia’s hiss of pain he held up a hand. “Just a precaution.”   Taking a moment to consider Derek, Stiles took a deep breath. “This will work, yeah?” Derek was so pale and ghostly looking now. He’d looked like he was being drained and that worried him because Scott didn’t nearly look quite so ashen. “Hey, Doc? Is that normal?” He gestured to Derek. Deaton moved over to stand next to him. Stiles knew that narrow gaze, “It’s not normal, is it.”

“It’s not unusual given the circumstances.”

“This will work?” Stiles felt like he was tearing at threads that were all ripping. He felt like he could feel Derek pulling away from him and he hated that feeling.

“We out of options, Stiles.” Melissa said walking in with the Sherriff beside her, she turned to Kira and Deaton. “I’ve got what we need.” She held up an esky containing multiple drugs and blood bags.

“Let’s do this.” Stiles clapped his hands firmly and locked eyes with Kira “Let’s bring them home.”

***

**White Room**

Derek had no idea where he was, but he thought he was dreaming. He was standing in a basement covered in soil and vines. He could see a large root breaking out of the cement floor. Crouching down, he touched and recoiled when he felt that shard of ice slashes through him.

He glanced around searching the room and let out a small sigh of relief when he realized that Allison was nowhere in sight.

The root called to him. He stared at and then following a hunch followed the cracked cement like a following a broken yellow brick road. Moving further into the basement that was becoming more and more tangled in vines that he had to push his way through, Derek found himself with surprise in a clearing in the centre of the basement just near a boiler and it’s centre the Nemeton’s massive charred stump.

Someone had lit a fire on it. Derek could feel it’s power. A power that was supernatural and belonged to another world. He knew it should frighten him, but he found himself walking forward instead.

“Derek?!” A voice drifted through the room.

Scott’s voice.

“Wake up, Derek.” Scott pleaded.

Derek spun tripping on the tree roots and landed back on the stump and that’s when it struck, vines appearing and pulling him down.

Desperate, he couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?   Then to his growing horror, Allison looked over his shoulder. She looked weary. Forlorn.

“I’m sorry.” Allison murmured. “I can’t stop it.”

“Can’t stop what?” Scott’s voice.

Derek blinked and found himself still bound, but the trappings of the room blurred and became a large cavernous white room. He’d been here before, he realised, a long time ago.

“The spell.” Allison reached and tugged at a vine on Derek, but it only held him tighter. He groaned, feeling what energy he had regained, being sapped from him. “Danny’s …”

“Using us like a battery trying to wake it up.”

Derek glanced at the tree and felt it’s power growing underneath him, he attempted to move again and the vine became stronger and thicker, reaching out to ensnare Scott’s hand where it hovered over his.

Allison rose from where she’d been kneeling next to Derek’s head. Her hand hung over the shoulder like she was trying to resist a pull of magic. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Derek whispered, trying to brace himself. “It—“

A flash of electricity bolted across the Nementon stomp, leaving Derek and Scott gasping and Allison was thrown clean off. She landed hard, but rolled with it and hastily stood up. “Scott?!”

Before either could say anything, there was another sizzle and bolt of electricity that danced across the stump. Derek and Scott twisted and groaned with its power.

***

**Vet Clinic**

“Do you think it’s working?” Stiles cried, watching as both Derek and Scott jolted in their ice baths.

Kira held up the defibrillator paddles and placed it over Danny’s heart and chest. “Charging.”

The machine powered up and Stiles braced himself, Lydia moved to grip his hand along with Parrish. “It’s gonna work.”

“Clear!” Kira shouted and pressed the button to release the charge on Danny. Danny’s bolted jolted and at the same time there was a sudden slosh of water as both Derek and Scott also jolted as if shocked.

With surprise, Stiles felt what felt like a shock tickle across his body that had him reaching out for support as he felt his legs begin to give way. He looked at his father who had surged forward. “I don’t feel so good.” Stiles could vaguely hear shouting before he too collapsed and knew no more.

“Stiles!”

***

**White Room**

The vines across the tree were shrinking. They were dying, releasing their stranglehold on Derek. Another horrific electricity bolt made them scream in agony. Derek was pallid, and growing weaker by the second. Scott leaned down trying to remove the vine from around his neck. “Just hold on… we can do this okay.”

“Scott?” Stiles' voice made his head snap up.   “What the fuck?” Dressed in his Deputy uniform, Stiles was standing ten feet away an entirely stunned look on his face. Stiles' eyes snapped to Allison directly opposite and he stepped forward. “Allison?”

Scott held up a placating hand. “Don’t come any closer?”

Stiles ignored him moving forward as Allison also moved from the other side.

“What are you doing?” Danny’s voice made them freeze.

As one, they all turned to find Danny standing behind them. He looked awful. Skinny and drawn, the yellow hue to his skin giving away his kidney failure. His true health status not hidden in this realm.

“We’re trying to help you.” Scott shot back, moving protectively to cover Derek.

Stiles and Allison surged forward.

Danny held up his hands. “You’re killing me.”

“Only for a little bit.” Stiles agreed and then they all jolted as another bolt of electricity echoed around the room.

***

**Vet Clinic**

“He’s flat lining.” Kira noted and then set a timer. “We have forty seconds and then I’m reviving.”

Deaton and Lydia moved quickly kneeling either side of Danny. Stepping out of their way she moved to check Stiles, who was unconscious on the floor head resting in his father’s lap. Melissa beside him holding a hand to his wrist.

“He’s breathing.” Melissa told her and added as if realising what she had been out to say. “He’s okay.”

Kira knelt down and rested a hand over his heart. “Heartbeat’s fast.” She glanced back to Lydia and Danny, who were writing silver rune markings in wolfsbane on Danny’s chest. “I didn’t think he’d be affected.”

“They’re connected.” Malia said, from where she stood next to Scott’s tub watching over him. Parrish had moved to Derek’s. “From the first sacrifice.”

Kira’s eyes moved to Allison’s empty tub and she met Melissa’s sad gaze. She ignored it and rose moving back to Danny’s prostrate form. Lydia and Deaton had stopped chanting and they glanced at her. “15 seconds.” Lydia told her.

Bending down, she charged the defibrillator.

“Ten.” Lydia announced.

Kira knelt down and picked up the paddles. She walked forward so she was beside Lydia and glanced at Danny’s pale dead looking eyes. “Please don’t be dead.”

“Five.”

Kira glanced at them. Lydia and Deaton shuffled back. The ping of the machine fully charged filled the room. “Clear!”

Leaning forward, she pressed the paddles to Danny’s chest and depressed the charge.

In a synchronised movement. Stiles and Scott jolted to consciousness. Stiles flailing about from where he lay. Scott surging up and out of the water. “Allison?!” He muttered.

The name hurt, but Kira focused on her task. The beep of a flat line. “Shocking again. Charge.”

“Derek.” Stiles asked somewhere, being held down by his father. “Let me up.” With some help, he rose and slid over to where Derek was still submerged. “Why isn’t he…”

“Clear!” Kira intoned and depressed another charge.

“Fuck, come on Derek.”

Kira sat back staring at the monitor, willing Danny’s heart to stutter back to consciousness. She saw out of the corner of her eye, Stiles reaching into the water and pressing his hands into Derek’s shoulder.

“Wake up, you bastard!” Then there was a surge of water slopping onto the floor as Derek too awoke from his slumber. Still weak he nearly fell back underneath the water and it was only Stiles’ quick hands that stopped him from slipping under.

Then a heartbeat flashed across the screen and Kira felt Scott rest a wet hand on her shoulder. “You did it.”

Glancing up at him she smiled, feeling like she’d run a marathon. “We did it.”

Lydia placed a blanket over Danny where he still lay unconscious, his heart beat steady.

“Did we break it?” Derek asked, spent. His hand moving to his shoulder and the scarred hand print they could all still see through his shirt. “Will she—“

Scott’s hand squeezed Kira’s shoulder, tremulous. “Allison--”

“--Allison told us we had.” Stiles' moved his hand unconsciously to cover Derek’s where it was gripping his shoulder. “But, it’s awake now.” He gestured with his hand and then looked to Lydia for confirmation. "Lyds?'

Lydia nodded. “Yes. I can feel it. It's awake.” She stared around at them unseeing, seeing into the void. “Death has taken its sacrifice.”

Melissa spoke to them all when she announced. “Thank God it was only temporary.”


	15. Life is Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to avoid talking about what happened. Stiles tries to avoid Derek until he can't anymore. Lydia receives some news and Kira struggles against feeling threatened by the ghost of Allison.

**Chapter 15**

**"Life Is Short"**

**Watch House**

**Beacon Hills**

Two weeks after the nightmare of his abduction, Derek found himself back at work. The air was just edging into spring and back at work Derek could start to feel the chill in the air receding a little as he and Kira rechecked the EMT’s vans stocks. Both of them no longer wore their dark winter jackets, although Kira had conceded to the still cool weather by dressing in a puffer vest. She sat on the gurney with the clipboard list of their vans stocks marking off items, while Derek kneeled in front of the supplies. The daily ritual was almost soothing. They weren’t too low of any of their stocks which pleased him. He noticed the way Kira kept gnawing at her lip, her gaze distracted as she jotted down the numbers.

“Are you going to ask?” Derek asked finally irritated and then added, “I'm all right.”

Her eyes narrowed at that clearly seeing the dark shadows that bracketed both eyes. It had only been two weeks and in that time, Derek had tried his best to move on after what had happened, tried not to let it bother him. He was desperately attempting to be the supportive friend to everybody, but nightmares about the white room were keeping him awake at night, not that Derek would admit that to anyone. He could still feel the tendrils of the connection to the tree at that moment when he edged between wakefulness and sleep. Allison’s icy grip. It haunted him.

“Okay, yeah, all right…” Kira reached out and touched his shoulder marked by Allison with a curious expression, he shrugged it off gently. “It bothers you?”

Sliding a rolled bandage into its spot, Derek raised his eyebrows at her wondering if he’d been giving something away.

“That, you know…” Kira shrugged a quick expressive roll of her shoulder and then fell silent. “It’s weird, isn’t it. It’s like a tattoo, right? She marked you.”

Derek’s eyebrows drew together confused and shrugged. “Not really.”

Her eyes were wide and dark, Kira thumbed at her lip as she absorbed that apparently doubtful. “Scott’s sleeping soundly, did you know that?”

“He’s shoulder seems fine too.” Derek sat back on his haunches, considering her. “That bothers you that he’s doing okay with it all?”

“No! I’m happy, he’s okay.” Kira agreed. “It’s just that…” Kira clicked her fingers and then plucked at her jacket. “It’s nothing.” Her gaze fell up to his shoulder and then away again. “I hate the fact that I’m jealous of a ghost. Isn’t that ludicrous? Isn’t that most ridiculous thing?”

Derek reached out and halted her movement with a brush of his hand on her knee and realized abruptly that Kira was on the verge of tears. “You haven’t talked?”

“What? Of course, not! No… what? No… that’s, no, what to talk about him leaving me for her?” Kira finished with a short laugh. “That would be… No, we haven’t.”

“Have you tried?” Derek pushed. He gentled his voice keeping it soft and soothing like did when they were on a call out. Kira shot him an annoyed look, recognizing that tone instantly.

“Have you talked to Stiles at all?” She asked snidely. It was a low blow and Kira knew it was judging by the expression her face. She held up a hand in apology. “Sorry.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at her. “So, no then.”

Kira reached out and grabbed his hand from where it was absently clenching into a fist. “Sorry, it’s just… sometimes I wonder, you know if Scott can ever really love me as he loved her. It’s like you and Stiles I guess sometimes I look at you and I just wonder… If you are really still in love with him or just in love with the idea of him, you know?”

Taking a slow considering breath Derek met her gaze and decided to answer her honestly, “it’s always going to be both.” At Kira’s confused look he added, “I’m always going to be in love with him and in love with the notion of what we could’ve been… It’s not the same for you and Scott though…”

“Derek,” Kira removed her hand and pulled at hair instead in a nervous gesture. “I don’t think you know how... It is the same…”

“Not really,” Derek answered, shooting her a cold look.

“Really.” Kira countered firmly. “Allison, Heather, we’re all competing with the idea of what could’ve been, what we could’ve had, Scott’s no different, seeing Allison…”

“Allowed Scott to say goodbye to an impossible future. He would die for you … you know that. Allison was his first; you’re his last.” A chill went through Derek at the mention of her name again, and reflexively his hand moved to his shoulder where a scar remained from Allison’s touch, and he could see that unconsciously Kira tracked the movement. He reached out and grabbed Kira’s hand when her face fell. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Kira’s voice was small when she finally spoke. “I wish I could believe you.”

“Don’t trust me, talk to Scott,” Derek advised.

“If you talk to Stiles.” Kira hedged.

“Stiles and I…” Derek shook his head. He’d heard all about the lengths to which Stiles had gone to get him back and rescued from Danny’s thrall. When it came down to it, Stiles had vanished afterward off to lick whatever wounds the whole experience had left, Derek couldn’t blame him. He recalled how he’d gone to sleep in his apartment with Stiles, Lydia and Scott hovering in the doorway and then woken up alone in a dark room only the scent of Stiles lingering rubbing salt on a reopened wound. He’d found Lydia and Parrish in the kitchen making coffee, but Stiles had vanished and even though he’d counseled himself not to expect him to be there, it had still hurt. “We’re not like you and Scott.” He pushed the words out needing to say them out loud for someone to hear. “I’m not his last.’

“Are you sure about that?” Kira questioned curiously. “Have you seen the way he cares about you?”

“I’m just… I’m not his Allison,” Derek disagreed, “It’s not like that anymore.”

“Derek…” Kira began doubtfully, but before she could fight him on this, he slid by her and hopped out of the van.

“You want a coffee?” He had waited for her reluctant nod before he moved across the street to the local coffee shop.

Derek spied the Sherriff exiting the Beacon Hills Station. He waved at Derek who returned the gesture and then quickly slid through the open door into the café.   It was childish to avoid the Sherriff, but revisiting what had happened, talking about the dreams, the nightmares, the way he avoided looking at the scar on his shoulder from Allison was the last thing Derek felt like doing. Plus, the Sherriff would then talk to Stiles.

Stiles cared about him that much would never change. The idea that Stiles was still in love with him? That was something he refused to dwell on. Derek would always be in love with Stiles that was fact. Now, he had to hold true to his promise that he’d made in that damn locker room, to be a good friend because that’s all he was now just a good friend of Stiles nothing more.

The Barista greeted him with a bright tired smile, “What do you want, sugar?”

It was the question of the day. What did he want? Derek knew the answer, but it was something Stiles wouldn’t be able to give him. He’d made that clear when he’d proposed to Heather. He forced a smile at the Barista and gave them his regular coffee order.

****

**Vet Clinic**

**Beacon Hills**

A large mug of black coffee appeared in front of Scott’s face, and he jerked backward, reflexively rolling away from the desk where he had been bleary going through the various forms that he had to fill out of each of furry patients.

Glancing up, Scott found Deaton watching him, “Have you given any additional thought to what we talked about?”

Scott took the mug and gulped down a sip of the liquid. “About whether the Fletcher dog needs –“ He trailed off at Deaton’s cold look. “Of course.”

“You can do this…”

“Can we?” Scott wondered plainly.

“I’m not a young man anymore, Scott,” Deaton said as he leaned on the desk. It was something that Scott had steadfastly refused to see, Deaton had always seemed ageless, and he still did in a way. It was his aura. “I don’t mean to pressure you, but…”

“You need an answer.” Scott agreed.

“I need an answer.”

“If I said yes to taking over, what then?”

“Then, you become joint owner of this practice with an eye to taking over when I retire.”

For once Deaton was speaking plainly and it made Scott frown at him. “What, like immediately?”

Deaton barked out a laugh. “No. No, not immediately.”

Scott relaxed and took another long sip of coffee. Setting the mug down on the desk, he said. “I saw Peter lurking around the Firehouse.”

“Isn't that where Kira …”

“It’s where Derek works.” Scott corrected. “It’s not that… Kira can look after herself.”   He knew that both Kira and Derek weren’t defenseless, but the way Derek had been targeted systematically by Danny had made him wonder if Peter didn’t have a similar agenda for them locking him away in Eichen House all these years ago. Scott shied away from thinking too deeply about Kira she had been oddly distant since the ice baths and he knew it was about Allison, but he was just afraid of rocking that boat, just in case it wasn’t. Their marriage hadn’t been exactly steady before he had left her for Allison. “Kira can look after herself,” He repeated.

“No doubt.” Deaton tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “But, you’re worried.”

“It seemed creepy.” Scott reached for his pen again, rolling closer back to the desk. “I dunno, I’m just not sure… I mean he saved Derek, but—“

“Maybe this time, he’s changed,” Deaton responded, rising and moving out of the room. “Maybe this time, he wants to make amends.”

He wasn’t wrong, Scott thought. Peter had been the one to comprehend early on that something was going on with Danny and yet he’d only hinted at the issue with Malia. If he’d been forthright for once then, maybe Derek could’ve been saved the hurt. Maybe they all could’ve been spared the damage of that awful night in the white room. He could still see Allison’s dimpled ghostly smile and her terror at hurting Derek, at hurting them all. Peter could’ve stopped it all from the beginning, and he’d chosen not too, and yet had still saved Derek. Scott couldn’t figure him out.

“It’s still creepy,” Scott grumbled after a long moment. It felt odd. Peter was in a strange way his werewolf father and seeing him around so much recently made him uncomfortable after everything that Peter had done intentionally and unintentionally made him wary about what could come next for them all.

Deaton laughed again, his eyes merry. “Of that, I have no doubt.”   He picked up a scrub shirt and threw at Scott. “Put this on, we’ve got to get work.”

*****

**M-Ath’s**

**Malia’s Store**

Three soft extremely fashionably cut shirts in varying hues of blue were placed on the sofa chair in Malia’s store. “How about any of these?” Malia asked frustrated. She turned to find Stiles considering them with a somber expression. He crossed his arms thoughtfully.

“This isn’t life or death!” Malia grabbed a shirt and threw it at him.

Stiles caught it one handed affronted. “It could be!” He waved the shirt at her. “This is a monumental decision.”

“It’s not.” Malia counted, “A big question is if you’ve spoken to Derek, yet?”

“Why does everyone… No.” Stiles answered dismissively, avoiding her eyes, uncomfortable. “He’s okay.”

“How do you know if you haven’t asked.” Malia threw back.

“I’m not…” He glared at her and hesitated as her words caught up with him. “Oh, Jesus. What are you saying that …”

Malia stepped forward quickly trying to dispel that idea. “No. no. He’s okay.” She nodded down the street towards the Watch House and the Beacon Hills Police Station. “Back at work, I’m surprised that…”

“It’s a bigger division than you think.” Stiles considered the shirt, relaxing “Do you really think that she’d like this one?”

“It matches your eyes, I guess,” Malia muttered and then grabbed his arm when Stiles went to move away. “Stiles, I don’t get…”

Stiles reached out and pressed her hand gently and then removed it. “You don’t give up when you had something real.”

Maila swallowed surprised, the words hurt. It was news to her this argument. Stiles had let her go for Derek after all. But, they were friends now and had worked hard for it. There were times that she craved something like what Stiles and Derek had shared. She had thought they’d had something real, but in the end, it had just been a stepping stone for Stiles and a learning curve for her. Stiles was kidding himself if he thought Heather was it for him. Still, though, Malia tried desperately to keep the doubts off her face. Heather had left him at the virtual altar in front of their friends and families. Any relationship would struggle to come back from that and to add to that Stiles’ feelings for Derek even though he strenuously denied them. She turned away gathering the leftover shirts to put away. “That one’s on the house, by the way.”

Stiles reading like he always could, stopped her touching his hand to her forearm. “Sorry, that was harsh What we had—“

Malia turned back at him, playing it cool. “Was years ago, Stiles.”

He eyed her curiously, brown eyes sharp and all seeing. Finally, he nodded as if in agreement. “Still, sorry.”

“For cheating on me with Derek or for...” Malia said bluntly with only a hint of humor.

“We were on a break.” Stiles jested back gently. It was a joke between them now and one they hadn’t used in years. “Malia—“

She knew that look and sighed deeply. “Stiles, my love life is fine. It’s yours that—”She clamped her mouth shut.

“No, please,” Stiles waved his hand about in that way that he had to illustrate being fed up, “Say it join the consensus.”

The consensus. Obviously, they were all of the same opinions then; she had thought it was just her and Lydia. Parrish it seemed was still trying to sit on the fence about it all, if their drinks the previous night had been any indication.   Malia sighed and said, “I’m just saying make sure you’re going after what you want and not what you think you want.”

“You sound like Lydia.”

“She’s a genius.”

Pursing his lips, Stiles shook his head still oddly defiant, “Doesn’t mean you can’t be wrong.”

Malia smiled at him. “We’ll see.”  

“Thanks for the shirt, Heather’s gonna love it. “ He leaned and kissed her cheek and she could smell that cologne he still wore it hadn’t changed since high school. “Let me know if you hear from Lydia, she has that appointment today.”

Malia nodded. “Sure.” She watched Stiles grab his jacket and exit out onto the street, passing Nathan as he wandered into the store. She hid a smirk at the way Stiles side-eyed Nathan as they move past one another. Malia hoped he knew what he was doing and wouldn’t regret the decision to be with Heather. She smiled brightly at Nathan. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, perhaps you can help me?” A new voice requested and Malia spun around finding Peter caressing a sleek jacket.

“Well, you could leave, that’d be a start.” Malia shot back, watching as Nathan glanced between them and then swiftly decided to exit the store. Peter watched him go with interest before his sharp gaze locked back on her.

“He’s the one you set up my nephew with?”

“Why do you care?”

“My family, my business.”

“Your family? Well, that's something we can all do without.” Malia held up her hand using air quotes around the word family.

Peter stalked towards her, predatory as always, “You don’t think I’m entitled to some forgiveness?”

“How about instead of asking for it, you earn it?”

Peter snorted. “Semantics.”

“You stay away from Derek.” Malia stepped forward, feeling protective.

“I’m the only one that cares about that kid.” Peter snapped, it was the first time Malia could see his icy exterior breaking and it concerned her, unwittingly, her nails extended into claws. Peter’s eyes snapped down to her fingers, and she shrunk them back quickly, annoyed to have given herself away. “I think we could all do without it.”

Peter reached out a hand and despite herself, Malia scuttled sideways away from him, wary. He smirked and then reached for a notepad that was resting on the counter. “My number in case you need it.”

She watched him scrawl in solid ugly numbers his phone number and exit. “Don’t wait by the phone.” Scrunching up the paper she threw it in the bin next to the counter top and then frowned annoyed and reached and grabbed it, smoothing out the crumpled paper.

****

  **Fielding Tea House**

**Beacon Hills**

Half an hour after her appointment at the hospital, Lydia found herself staring numbly at an empty coffee cup in the local Tea House. She had texted Parrish to meet her there but had yet to hit send. She had needed a moment. It seemed surreal. She wasn’t quite sure if she was Banshee moment or not and that frightened her. She tapped a manicured nail on the edge of the mug and started when Melissa slid into the opposite chair forehead wrinkled in concern.

Melissa reached out took her hand. “Lydia, what is it?”

Gathering her thoughts, Lydia went to speak and found that she couldn’t because she was on the verge of crying. Hurrying around the table, Melissa gathered her in a warm motherly hug. Lydia sank into her it. Her own mother was on a teaching assignment the next town over and she hadn’t had the courage yet to call her to tell her the news.

“Oh, my dear,” Melissa soothed. “It’s okay, whatever it is, we got this and if not, we can find a way to solve it, right?”

Nodding, Lydia pulled back and swallowed hard. “Yeah.” Absently she pressed send on the text to her husband.

“So.” Melissa prompted gently. “What’s wrong sweetheart.”

“We might have a surrogate?”

“Is that a question Lydia Martin Parrish,” Melissa asked, “Because I need that not to be a question.”

“It’s not a question,” Lydia whispered. “I haven’t told—“

Melissa's eyes swam over her face. “Are you not sure you want—“

_Children_

The word hung between them unspoken and Lydia negated that with a sharp shake of the head, red hair flying about it. “I do… but, I was …” She reached into her startling blue cobalt handbag and pulled out a flyer and pushed it over to Melissa, who read rapidly and then looked up at her surprised and proud.

“You want to foster a child?” Melissa breathed out.

“Jordan and I spoke about what would happen and then I saw this…” She paused and shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Honey, what do you make of it?”

“Melissa-“

“If you’re asking if I believe that you can do this, the answer is of course I do. If you’re asking, if I feel you have to choose, I say why do you have too?”

“What…” Lydia arched an eyebrow, surprised, “Do both?”

“Why not?”

“Is that…”

“It’s worth a question, honey, you have one of the gentlest hearts and fiercest natures how could you not be an incredible mother to any child. The advisory board will see that I’m sure.”

The bell dinging made them both pause and then saw Parrish enter in his Deputy uniform. He spied them immediately and when he saw her tearstained face his face fell. He weaved through the tables hastily. “Lydia? Babe, are you okay?”

Faced with her husband, Lydia suddenly felt the weight of the moment again and swallowed through tears as she met his gaze. She reached out and pressed a hand to his cheek gently caressing it and leaning in. “We’re going to be parents.”

At this proximity to him, she could see the fire flame in his eyes as the hell-hound within him sparked with joy, but it was all Jordan who let out a whoop of joy and gathered her to him. “Oh my God, Babe!” He pulled back abruptly, “Like, really, for real?”

“For real,” Lydia confirmed, this time, uncaring of the tears that slid down her cheeks. Neither of them noticed, Melissa snapping a photo and quietly ducking back over to the counter to complete her order. They were too lost in each other.

****

**Joe’s Irish Pub**

**Beacon Hills**

It was at the celebratory drinks for Lydia and Parrish at the Irish Pub that Derek saw Stiles for the first time since the attack. He hesitated not sure if should make the move over to Stiles and was grateful that he had paused when he saw Stiles spy Lydia and make a beeline for her he swooped her up in a hug and then turn to Heather, who had also shown up for the drinks.

Heather wearing a chic black dress and studiously cool air of indifference stepped back awkwardly away from Stiles when she saw the expression on Stiles’ face which was determined and earnest. Derek was abruptly grateful that he had hesitated.

Turning away, he made his way over to the bar and grabbed a whiskey straight up. A large warm hand settled on Derek's shoulder over Allison’s mark and he started and he whipped around surprised to find Scott raising his hands in an ‘easy’ gesture.

“Sorry, man, I forgot.”

Derek shrugged off the platitude, leather jacket creaking at the movement. “Scott.”

Scott ducked his head and gave him that serious look underneath his brows that he had, “how you doing man?”

He wanted to wave off the concern, but Scott’s genuine concern unsettled him. “It’s …”

“Cause, Kira said you looked better and I…” Scott’s eyes’ traveled over him taking in the way the green sweater he wore was looser than before and his jeans baggier. He was still fit, but he’d lost weight with the recent drama his appetite had been slow to return although he was getting better.

“It was a late shift.” Derek dismissed, noting the Scott looked healthier than he had in weeks himself. His face full and his eyes bright, jean jacket tight across in shoulders.

“It’s not Allison?” Scott wondered, his gaze serious and solemn. “Have you…”

Taking a strong sip of the whiskey, Derek rolled his eyes frustrated to being having the same conversation that he’d just had with Kira. “Allison will always be here.” He told Scott not pulling his punches, “but, your wife needs you too, don’t you think?”

Affronted, Scott pulled a face. “Kira knows I love her.” Without even hearing his heartbeat, Derek could hear the lie and from Scott’s expression, he could feel it too. “It’s hard man.”

Nodding, Derek could only agree, his gaze drifting to where Stiles dressed in a brown leather jacket and with a red shirt was speaking earnestly to Heather who was looking very uncomfortable her gaze drifted to him and Derek offered her a small smile, which she returned. Stiles followed her look his voice trailing off as he saw Derek, Heather’s face falling a little. “Yeah,” Derek downed the rest of his drink and turned away from them, “Want another?”

“Sure,” Scott's hand rested on his shoulder again over Allison’s hand print and again and despite himself Derek balked and shook it off abruptly. It was a muscle memory that was hard to break at the moment, especially sometimes in the twilight of half sleep he could still see Allison reaching out towards him. He could feel Stiles’ sharp prickling gaze, but chose to ignore the way he watched him in the mirror over the bar.

“Sorry, man,” Scott muttered, apologetic, “But, yeah let’s get a drink.”

Forty minutes later and Derek was edging towards the door, he had successfully managed to avoid Stiles and was surprised when he slipped outside to find Heather doing the same thing he was, ghosting out of the party. “You too?” He asked her, watching as she flushed in embarrassment.

“How are you?” She asked instead. “I heard that –“

“It's over with.” Derek stepped closer, helping her with her jacket and scarf as she struggled to hold it all along with her handbag.

Heather pulled the jacket closer to her shivering in the cold evening air. “Thanks.” Her eyes darting up to his and then back into the bar where they could both see Stiles wrapping an arm around both Lydia and Parrish delighted.

“For what it’s worth…” He began only to be cut off by Heather.

“Don’t apologize.” She interrupted, but not unkindly. “I don’t … It’s not anything you did really.”

Derek wasn’t sure that was quite right, considering, his return had apparently created some kind of friction. “Isn’t it?”

The laugh Heather snorted out was bitter and resigned. “I ran out and you turned him down, the way I see it we both had our chance and we both fucked it up. That’s why I came, you know,” she offered him a brief shaky smile, “to be sure, you can’t live with the ghost, it’s too hard and now I know.”

Derek wanted to ask what she knew for sure, but he was afraid of the answer because to him, it was evident even though he had been trying his best to ignore him, that Stiles still really cared for Heather. She gave him a pat on the arm. “I’m glad to hear that you’re okay.”

Taken aback, Derek automatically covered her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks.”

After another considered look she removed her hand. Derek couldn’t read her and that was unsettling. Her heel scratched at the pavement she turned and grabbed her keys. “See you around Derek.”

A cough made Derek turn and he found Stiles watching him and then his gaze moved down the pathway to where Heather had disappeared. “She just left.”   Delving into his pocket he removed his own set of keys he nodded at Stiles deciding not to linger in the space between them that felt stretched with everything they weren’t talking about. “Stiles.”

Stiles skipped down the stairs towards him quickly and halted in front of him. His hand half up to stop him leaving. “Wait, I actually wanted to speak to you.” Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise asking him silently if he was serious and Stiles gave him a wry twisted grin. “You wanna take a walk?”

Derek wanted to say no. He knew he should and from the way Stiles was watching him, he was expecting him to say no. It was a surprise then to both of them when Derek shrugged and nodded towards where his car was parked. “Sure.”

Stiles quirk of a smile was a small thing, but it made Derek’s heart race a little. He had to remind himself that Stiles only cared about him as friends do. That’s all this was, Stiles caring about a friend. They walked in silence, falling quickly into step with one another, for two blocks before Stiles finally broke the strained silence.

“You doing okay?”

The sigh that Derek let out between his teeth was annoyed and frustrated. “If that…”

“Sorry, no,” Stiles’ hand moved to rest on Derek’s stomach as he moved around in front of him, halting them both. His eyes were nervous and sad. “That’s… what’d you and Heather talk about?”

“The weather,” Derek answered raising his eyebrows at Stiles, who returned an angry, frustrated look. “I’m fine. You’ve checked.”

“Derek—“ Stiles blew out a breath apparently trying to hold onto his temper. “Scott said you looked like shit and I saw the way… Are you still seeing her?”

Only in his nightmares, Derek thought, “It was just a long shift.” Derek dismissed again, glancing around to find his car and then sidestepping Stiles to start walking again. “You and Heather seemed to get along.”

Stiles' eyebrows drew together in surprise. “Yeah, I mean, she and I are taking baby steps, but yeah … listen…”

“That’s good.” Derek nodded, reminding himself again that Stiles was his friend and nothing more. “Good for you.”   He jangled his keys. “I’m gonna go, I’m beat, do you need a ride home?”

Stiles slowly shook his head his gaze carefully blank. “No. I’m all fine, just wanted to check up on you is all.”

“Considered me checked,” Derek responded with a shrug of his shoulder, fighting the urge to press a hand to Allison’s handprint.

“Checked.” Stiles' eyes drifted to his shoulder and the tattoo left behind him reading him like always. “No open wounds at all, huh?”

“Werewolf remember,” Derek forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It felt like they were on the precipice of something and Derek didn’t know which way to step to make it right. There seemed to be no safe passage, no safe harbor, Stiles used to be that harbor, but there was something his gaze right now that seemed bitter and dangerous, that spoke of a long buried hurt. Speaking from a heavy heart, he shrugged, “you’re going to get her back you know.”  

Stiles smiled darkly with memory, his thumbing moving up and tapping on his lip. “I remember and thanks, man, I really hope so, I’ve got some ground to make up.”

“You can only try, right?” Derek flipped the keys again in his hand making them clank loudly in the quiet street.

That same dark smile again that didn’t reach his eyes, Stiles nodded. “Sure, man, you can only try.”

Whether they were talking about their relationship or Heather Derek had no idea, but all he knew was that this time he needed to be the one that walked away. Shouldering around Stiles he moved down the dark street to find his car, he refused to turn around and look back, he wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. They were friends, Derek reminded himself, they were only ever going to be friends. Recalling his conversation with Kira earlier that week Derek knew that he would always love Stiles, care about him and that was never going to change. It was just going to take some time to let go of everything that had happened.

Derek caught himself rubbing his shoulder and this time, when he looked back, he saw Stiles watching him with that same expression that he couldn’t read. Then he shook his head like he was having an argument with himself and Derek turned away, hating himself a little for the way he still longed to feel Stiles against him. To feel those lean fingers, trail across his cheeks, to feel the press of his lips against his, the way his brown eyes would blow wide in delight when he managed to make him smile.

_I would've said yes._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Teen Wolf/One Tree Hill Season Five Mash Up and this is slow burn Sterek with Sterek endgame. Of course being Teen Wolf - supernatural shenanigans happened. This story was started post Season 4 so there is mention of Theo and that drama, but not overtly which means sadly Allison remains deceased. However, to those know Tree Hill she will still play an important role, which will be revealed in later chapters. Heather, however, has been revived from her long dark slumber, because Stiles needed a Lindsey. Danny is also makes a surprising appearance but I'll let you uncover that dear reader.


End file.
